In Weakness or In Strength
by GingerSarahRebecca
Summary: TASM2 Verse: Hayley Carmichael is a nurse and psychiatrist at the Ravencroft Institute, used to treating the criminally insane and downright creepy. Then someone arrives who turns her world upside down; the charismatic Harry Osborn. Can Hayley handle the monster within or will she give into the devil's temptations? And what if the Goblin has his own agenda for her? Harry/OC/Goblin
1. Chapter 1

**Featured song**: _Honest_ – The Neighbourhood (TASM2 soundtrack)

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**I do not own Spiderman or any of the characters within the franchise, just my OC. **

**I also do not work in the medical profession so there may be inaccuracies throughout the story in that aspect – I have researched and Googled as much as I can and I've tried to make everything as accurate as possible. I have never done psychology/psychiatry as a subject and I draw on my own personal experiences when writing counselling therapies.**

**Warning: Small substance abuse in this chapter**

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Hayley had heard his name many times, heck, he owned his own company, but never in her wildest dreams did she imagine getting entangled with the likes of Harry Osborn.

Especially after that night.

The night when she lost Gwen, when Harry had fallen from grace and became the Goblin - the night Spider-Man disappeared. Seeing their battle on top of the clock tower televised on the news had sent chills down Hayley's spine. Watching the Goblin dropping Gwen from the sky and Spider-Man diving to save her had made Hayley scream out in horror.

Discovering Gwen had died tore her apart inside; watching her childhood friend laid to rest in the graveyard was enough to make Hayley question whether she should continue working for the Ravencroft Institute, which was funded by OsCorp. She remembered hearing about that poor man, Max Dillon, who had turned ice blue from the electricity that ran through his body. He had been experimented on and tortured by one of the scientist and lead doctors at Ravencroft. Hayley worked as a nurse and assistant psychiatrist for rehabilitating and treating the incarcerated inmates, so she had only heard about the Electro incident from staff gossip. Sometimes working with criminals, with these villains, it made Hayley question whether they deserved a second chance. Hearing about the people they had killed always made her blood run cold. As it was, Hayley had to have a male guard present, sometimes two, when she would medicate and treat the inmates. Many were violent and having a young woman nearby sometimes triggered their psychosis.

A week after Gwen's death, Hayley sat at her desk in the Nurse's Station sorting through the multi-coloured pills that she had to administer daily. It was a task she had practically perfected into a memorised art, knowing exactly what pills each patient needed, what combinations and at what dosage. Tying her auburn hair into a tight high pony, a necessary style when a few of the prisoners liked to sniff and grab loose hair, Hayley hummed a tuneless melancholy song. Her hands began to shake as she loosened the cap on the bottle marked 'Amitriptyline'. A single tear slid down her face as her thoughts drifted to Gwen.

Looking around the room and seeing that none of her co-workers had arrived yet, she plucked a shiny pill from the bottle and quickly swallowed it.

_That will numb the pain for the rest of my shift,_ Hayley thought.

Wiping away the stray tear from her cheek, Hayley continued the mind-numbing task of placing pills in labelled little white cups.

Five minutes later Hayley heard a horrendous yelling coming from one of the treatment rooms, a noise she had never heard within the walls of Ravencroft. It pricked up the hairs on the back of her neck, causing her to drop the pill bottle in fright. Rising from her chair, Hayley could only imagine that whomever the yell belonged to, well, they must be in serious pain.

There was a commotion outside, the sound of people running, orders being shouted, alarms bells ringing. But nothing could penetrate the sound of that guttural screaming. Suddenly, Cadence, a senior nurse burst through the door of the station.

"Quick Hayley, grab a syringe and one of strongest sedatives we have, and get it to Doctor Scott in Room 136. STAT!" Cadence screeched before turning on her heel and racing off to the aforementioned room.

Hayley stood still in shock at the sudden change in pace of her mundane morning before another deafening howl caused her to move with urgency. Snatching the necessary tools from a cabinet, Hayley raced down corridor after corridor, quickly coming nearer and nearer to Room 136, the source of that chilling sound.

Finally reaching the West wing, Hayley had to fight through a crowd of guards with guns and riot gear before she could enter the room in question.

_What kind of person would need guards this heavily armed, _Hayley thought, _because Ravencroft guards usually only use electrically charged batons._

Something must be seriously wrong in Room 136.

Upon entering the room, Hayley could see five guards with guns pointed at a screaming man who was strapped down to a medical bed. Hayley didn't have time to properly inspect the patient who was jerking against his restraints. Her mind went to a professional trance blocking out all the noise and disorder. Extracting the strong sedative from its vile, the surrounding doctors urged Hayley to quicken her actions. With the correct amount in the syringe, two doctors made a grab for the patient's toned arm, trying to hold it straight even though he resisted. Hayley's eyes searched for an appropriate vein. She boldly touched the man's arm to add pressure around the selected vein.

The man stopped moving.

Seizing her chance, Hayley pierced the skin and administered the sedative. Looking up from the arm she had just plunged the syringe into, Hayley came face to face with a creature whose skin was a sickly shade of green, whose piercing blue eyes stared right at her. Giving one last moaning wail, the man calmed down, offering Hayley a creepy smile, which exposed his discoloured cracked teeth.

What kind of person indeed.

It was the Goblin himself… Harry Osborn.

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**Hope you all enjoyed this first chapter! This is my first ever fanfiction - finally plucked up the courage to publish something! I really loved The Amazing Spiderman 2 when I watched it and fell in love with Dane DeHaan's portrayal of the Green Goblin. I'm a sucker for the bad guys! **

**Please review and let me know what you think :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**I do not own Spider-Man or any characters in the Marvel franchise, just me OC.**

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Hayley stared in fear at the man who had killed Gwen. Seeing the Goblin on her TV was one thing, especially when the news helicopter couldn't zoom in and capture a detailed look of Harry's transformation. But seeing him in the flesh; he was more terrifying than she could have possibly imagined.

Harry continued to look at the young nurse, memorising every blemish, drinking in her pale complexion, and the way the horrendous strip lights above made her hair glisten like copper. Her vivid green eyes were wide like a rabbit caught in headlights; he detected fear.

_Good,_ he thought, his smirk widening making his lips curl.

Although she looked well kept, he noticed that her pupils were a tad too small, that her eyes appeared bloodshot from lack of sleep. It was like looking into a mirror, for Harry recognised the physical effects of recreational drug abuse.

_How interesting._

The girl looked a little young to be a fully qualified nurse; maybe she was an intern or grad-student. If he had seen her outside of Ravencroft, Harry would of thought college student over a trained professional. Maybe she hadn't been in her job long. As it was, she wasn't behaving very professionally just standing there like a scared mouse – even the models he'd slept with had more gall. Though, she had touched him when no one else would…

Without taking his eyes from Hayley, he realised that the other doctors and guards surrounding him were silent, watching their little moment unfold. Not one to disappoint with theatrics, Harry started to whistle nonchalantly. The eerie high-pitched chirping was a startling contrast to the tension filled silence from before.

No one knew how to respond; Doctor Scott tried to catch Hayley's attention since the stupid girl was over staying her welcome. A firm cough from the doctor broke the spell; Hayley's eyes left those piercing blue orbs before turning her head towards her superior for further instruction.

Like a shot, Harry moved his free arm and snatched at Hayley's wrist. He dug his long yellow fingernails into her delicate skin, breaking the top layer as he brought her closer.

"LET THE NURSE GO OSBORN"

"RELEASE HER OR WE WILL SHOOT, I REPEAT WE WILL SHOOT YOU"

"Why isn't the sedative working Doctor Scott?"

" STAY CALM MISS, WE'LL MAKE THAT SON OF A BITCH LET YOU GO"

"It must be the venom he injected himself with at OsCorp, I heard it had regenerative properties…"

"But it was the strongest dose we have!"

"I'LL COUNT TO THREE MR OSBORN; WE WILL HURT YOU UNLESS YOU RELEASE THE NURSE"

Hayley started to shake from the biting pain from her wrist. Even though everyone in Room 136 was going crazy, all she could only focus on Harry Osborn. His whistling had only become louder and more piercing to combat the guards and doctors' shouting orders. Hayley was beginning to think she preferred him screaming. Little droplets of blood were already pooling on her skin beneath the Goblin's claw like fingernails. Hayley knew that he had penetrated deep enough into the flesh to leave scars.

_More to add to the list,_ Hayley thought morbidly.

"ONE…."

He only wanted to feel her again, to touch something so deceptively pure and innocent looking. Harry wondered why, out of all the nurses and doctors in the room they had asked her to deliver the sedative. A sedative that was slowly working its way around his body; he could feel it entering his system now. Surely there were more experienced people? They were scared. So scared that they let a mere expendable girl sedate him. They should be scared, everyone should be afraid of the Goblin, of Harry Osborn.

"TWO…"

Slowly, Harry released his nails, but kept a firm grip on Hayley's arm. She let out a shaky breath as the pain started to intensify now that the pressure had been alleviated. As Hayley began to pull away, the gnarled green hand shifted its hold to the index and middle finger of her left hand. The two fingers that had touched Harry earlier. Touched him when no one else would.

"THREE!"

Harry was about to let go, growing weary from the tranquilizer. Then, with all his strength he twisted the two delicate fingers he held and began to laugh when he heard them snap. Hayley shrieked in pain, stumbling away from Harry. The last thing she saw before being ushered away by Nurse Cadence, was the guards in riot gear slowly descend on the man, no, creature that lay snickering on the bed in Room 136.

_When he was free, _the Goblin thought, _she would be the first to die._

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**WOW! Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, followed, and added my story to their alert list. Literally cannot believe it, I have a big smile on my face!**

**Just to give a little background info to where this story is heading – I'm going to be filling in the blanks of Harry's time at Ravencroft, and will ultimately get to the point in TASM2 where he is visited by The Gentleman in his cell. The story will carry on after this, but I really want to explore the psychological process of Harry and his Goblin transformation. So there is going to be a lot of Ravencroft before the ending of TASM2 – hopefully I weave it together seamlessly!**

**Hope you all enjoyed Chapter 2! And feedback is gratefully accepted :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**I do not own Spider-Man or any of the characters associated with the Marvel franchise, just my OC.**

**This fic is rated M for strong language, prescription drug abuse, violent themes, and eventual sexual content in later chapters– you have all been warned!**

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Luckily, the break had been clean, and after having the bones reset and bandaged tightly, Hayley was sent home from work. Her co-worker Gillian had graciously told Hayley that she would cover her day shifts for the next two days, as Nurse Cadence wanted Hayley to only return when she had fully rested. Hayley really couldn't afford to miss work but she hadn't had time off since she began working at Ravencroft over a year ago.

She reluctantly returned home to her apartment complex in down town New York. After loosing her parents when she was young, Hayley had been given to her Grandma, with the two of them living together until she passed away shortly after Hayley had started at Ravencroft. Although her Grandma's apartment was sparsely furnished and cheap to maintain, Hayley often struggled to pay rent but the landlord knew Grandma Carmichael, so kindly allowed Hayley to be late on her payments. After all, that girl had gone through enough in the eyes of the landlord.

After climbing five flights of stairs, due to the lift always being out of order, Hayley final reached her apartment. She stumbled to get the keys out of her bag with her injured left hand and arm. Eventually, after much cursing from Hayley, she managed to get her front door open and entered her quiet and bare home.

Now Hayley was truly alone.

Absentmindedly flicking on the television for some background noise, Hayley slowly removed her Ravencroft uniform coat before heading towards her small bathroom. Staring at her reflection, she carefully undid her hair trying not to aggravate her bandaged fingers. Showering was going to be difficult. The mirror had never been kind to Hayley; sure her favourite and must defining feature was her poker straight luxurious ginger hair, but that was about it. Hayley could only ever see the negatives in her appearance, feeling awkward in her own skin. Her build was around 5 foot 6 with long and willowy legs, but was on the lower end of a healthy weight for her age due to the constant medication she'd been on for twelve years.

Wetting a hand towel she washed away the crusted dry blood on her arm where the Goblin had struck her. Five angry half moon red marks now marred her wrist. At least these scars weren't the worst on Hayley's body and could be easily covered by makeup, unlike the others. Her eyes flicked to her bony shoulders were creamy skin was disturbed by an unnatural rouge that disappeared= from view down her back. The skin she could see looked tight and uncomfortable, peeling slightly. Hayley sighed, hating to dwell on such a painful memory. Instead she found a small plastic bag in a cabinet under the sink wrapping it around her broken fingers for protection. A cold shower would wash away today's events and the icky feeling left by Harry Osborn.

Once she was fully clean, Hayley wrapped a towel around her damp body, before walking to the kitchen to make a jam sandwich. The TV buzzed behind her with "Breaking NEWS!" causing her to turn and watch.

On the screen a large fire had broken out in a local factory, with the newsreader reporting the cause as an electrical malfunction. Some of the power in New York was still short-circuiting or failing thanks to Electro zapping electricity from the power station earlier that week. Apparently Spider-Man had yet to arrive on scene, the reporter was saying. He hadn't been seen since that night in the clock tower. Hayley looked away from the screen as a close up of the flames came into view. She hadn't liked fire, not since the loss of her parents.

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_The police never figured out how the fire had started._

_They had received a call from a neighbour concerned about shouting and screaming coming from inside the house. Already on the polices' radar, the Carmichael home had various complaints and troubled reports regarding domestic violence. _

_On this particular chilly and blustery night, shortly after the first call, another was made reporting that a fire had broken out in the kitchen. Police had already been dispatched and arrived on scene along with two fire engines. The blaze was enormous. An orange haze could be seen inside the lower and upper floor of the family home. A smashed window allowed air to fuel the fire, flames licking up the outer walls, causing the house to be hidden behind a wall of combustion. _

_A girl, no younger than ten, was discovered in an upstairs room cowering in a wardrobe. She was trapped, unable to open door from the inside, with the unbearable heat scorching her tiny hands if she tried. The clever girl had put a jumper over her head to allow for ease in breathing and the smoky air to be slightly ventilated, but nothing could protect her back. She had curled up into a protective ball facing away from the doors. The child had suffered from deep partial thickness second-degree burns, fire fighters only able to locate her from the screaming. _

_Mr and Mrs Carmichael were found, bodies burnt black, surrounded by a pool of blood. Each had been shot in the head. No gun was ever located; with a smashed window and the back door wide open, the forensic and situational evidence pointed to a robbery gone wrong. However, due to the fire, it was undetermined whether or not any possessions had been taken. The case was still open but considered cold and unsolvable due to lack of leads - the killer had never been found._

_Officer Stacy was never able to shrug a sense of uneasiness about the case. It was one that still plagued his mind, often running the evidence or lack of over and over, trying to discover a new angle. What kept him from disputing the deficient investigating with his ranking superior was thinking about how damaged that poor little girl already was. She would bare the physical and mental scars for the remainder of her life. He would never get the image of a fire fighter emerging from the flames, clutching a small child in his arms. Her back was exposed, displaying nasty boils and an unnatural red shade, shining like a beacon next to the pale complexion of her legs and face. The burns were an even darker red than her short ginger hair. They covered forty-five per cent of her fragile body. Small wisps of smoke rose from her damaged shoulders, with every cop unable to get the stench of burnt flesh from their nose for days. The girl was unusually quiet after her rescue with only a stream of tears displaying her discomfort. _

_All the young Officer Stacy could think of was how much she reminded him of his own little angel, Gwen. He took Gwen to visit the Carmichael child while she was recovering in the hospital burns ward. He didn't want to scare his little girl, but he wanted to teach her the importance of not judging others on their looks. Luckily his angel had taken it all in her stride, with Gwen and Hayley clicking straight away, becoming childhood friends. He was glad; after loosing everything so young, Hayley Carmichael could do with a friend. _

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Two days later, Hayley had received an urgent phone call in the afternoon from Ravencroft, needing her to take an evening shift. It was not her usual working hours because Hayley needed her sleep, especially since the medication she took made her drowsy. Hearing the desperation of the secretary on the phone, Hayley accepted the extra hours and hastily tried to get some rest before heading back to work.

"Where's Gillian today? I don't mind covering her shift since she covered mine, but it was a bit late notice," Hayley enquired.

It was midnight; the night shifts were only given to the most experienced nurses who had been at Ravencroft for over three years. The cells and endless dark corridors tended to frighten the young nurses, even some of the guards turned down extra shifts and money just to avoid working at night.

Cadence licked her lips hesitantly wondering how much of the situation Dr Scott would want Hayley to know. "She's resigned, hon," the older nurse muttered quickly "She wont be coming back".

"Resigned?"

"Resigned" Cadence stated in a clipped tone.

Hayley could tell the woman was not going to expand further on the matter.

Other than being wide awake at the stupid hours, the night shift was actually pretty easy, work wise in Hayley's mind. Only ten inmates required medication in the night, and the rest of the shift involved looking in on the patients through their cell windows. Evening behaviour was recorded manually on a table system by room number, noting down any uncommon sleep patterns, night terrors or drug reactions. Luckily for Hayley, Gillian had laid out the Night clipboard on her desk, along with ten white cups of pills. Now it was time to administer the drugs and visit every single cell in Ravencroft.

It was going to be a long night.

With clipboard in hand, pills and cups in a Tupperware container, Hayley made to exit the Nurse's station.

"By the way, Dr Scott wants you to visit Room 136 at 10am to do an initial behaviour assessment with the patient," Cadence called after her offhandedly.

"Sure… no problem." Hayley continued out the door, clutching her shift items closer to her chest, trying to get a grip on what she'd just be told. One word ran through her mind;

Shit.

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Apart from corridors being sparse of doctors and the occasional mad ramblings of slumbering inmates, Hayley was having a very quiet and easy night shift. Her medicine dependant patients were prepared for their nightly visit, waiting expectantly for the pills that would allow them to sleep without nightmares. It surprised Hayley how easily and calmly they all took the pills. She was expecting refusal from at least one.

After finishing all the wings bar one, Hayley headed towards the West wing, a sense of foreboding filling her with dread.

Behind a coded locked barred gate, the entrance to the West wing, Hayley saw Colin, the longest employed guard at Ravencroft. Nothing could faze Colin; he had the biggest arms Hayley had ever seen, numerous tattoos decorating his skin, a slightly balding head, and a scar on his lip where an inmate had decided teeth would aid his escape – it did not. On first impressions, Colin looked like one intimidating guy, even like one of the prisoners, but he was a big bear at heart. At least with Hayley. Both originally from the United Kingdom, Colin had a soft spot for his fellow Londoner, plus she didn't seem to have many friends at Ravencroft.

Hayley saluted Colin, who she thought of as the bouncer of Ravencroft, while waiting for him to unlock the barred door between them.

"Evening, well, morning Colin! God, I can't believe it's three already! Just need to inspect the patients. How's it been?" Hayley conversed, happy to speak to a friend – apart from Colin, the night guards were not a conversational bunch.

"Alrigh' darlin'. Fancy seein' you 'ere. Been a quiet one, nah much happenin' 'part from earlier," Colin's gruff voice boomed in the long passage.

Hayley nodded, thinking he was referring to Gillian resigning. He pulled open the door, letting Hayley enter, before locking it behind her. They started walking together along the corridor, chatting mindlessly, stopping occasionally while Hayley noted down each cell occupants sleep activity.

They came to a stop outside Room 125, a previously vacant cell, now housing a new criminal, Aleksei Sytsevich. The man was awake, standing against the door, staring menacingly out the window. It made Hayley feel uneasy, but she jotted down his unsleeping state, making a note of possible insomnia with medication needed immediately. Colin shuffled next to the young nurse.

"Yeah, this one likes starin' thinks 'es a big shot!" said Colin, banging loudly on the glass making Sytsevich retreat back into his cell, "Freaks the fuck out of me, but 'e ain't goin' nowhere".

Hayley nodded, and they continued down the hall.

"By the way, where's that blonde chick, Gillian?"

"I thought you knew? She resigned today."

"Yeah, _sniff_, thought as much. Anyone would after that…"

"After what?" Hayley interrupted swiftly.

"Never you mind."

"It's really quiet tonight Colin, are you the only one in this wing? Where are Bill and Ernie?"

Colin looked uncomfortable under Hayley's questioning gaze, but he couldn't lie to her, well not fully anyway. "Given the night off, but both 'ave moved to North wing."

"When did that happen? You three were like the dream team of Ravencroft!"

"Today. 'N that's all I'm gona say on the matter," Colin stated a little forcefully. He was stressed, all of Ravencroft was on edge since Mr Osborn's arrival, but that was no excuse for his tone with Hayley. Besides, she hadn't been here for two days. She hadn't seen what had happened. Colin was about to apologise when a crackled voice came from the walkie-talkie on his belt.

"Big C, we got a 45 in progress in the North wing, requesting back up?"

"This Big C. On ma way. Over 'n out". With a final glance at Hayley that clearly said "Stay put!" Colin ran down the passage, leaving her alone and confused.

With only four rooms left on the chart on her clipboard, there was no way Hayley was going to stand around like a lemon. Colin could take forever. Whatever was happening on the north side of Ravencroft, it didn't sound good. Plus, what was the point in waiting when she was so close to finishing? Nothing was going to happen to her.

And nothing did. All four inmates were asleep and not displaying any noteworthy behaviour. Hayley smiled to herself, glad she could head back to the Nurse's station and get a quick nap before her usual shift started at 8am. Looking at her watch she was amazed to see it was 6am. Hayley was about to walk back when she realised that she was standing outside Room 134. Two cells away was Harry Osborn. Looking down at her clipboard, she was surprised to discover his cell had been missed off the list. Maybe someone had forgot to add it since he'd only just arrived.

Cautiously, Hayley stood outside his door, suddenly remembering that she had a session with him in four short hours. It was dark in his cell and she couldn't immediately locate him. Growing concerned, Hayley moved closer, putting her face almost flush against the glass window.

There he was, the green hued young man in all his glory, sitting on a chair staring at himself in a small dirty mirror, much like Hayley had earlier. She held her breath not wanting him to spot her spying. Harry seemed to be fully engrossed in looking over his altered appearance. His reflected eyes flickered up and down assessing the changes. He stopped when his eyes locked with the snooping girl reflected behind him. Hayley froze at being caught.

Smirking with one pointed eyebrow raised challengingly, Harry puckered his cracked lips and blew the nurse a kiss.

Backing away sharply from the window, Hayley ran back to the West wing entrance, already dreading their next meeting.

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**Huge HUGE thank you to my reviewers and all the follows and favourites, it makes my day! Hope you liked poor Hayley's back-story – tad obscure but all in good time. **

**You guys are awesome and I am excited to bring you more… and it is your lucky day! This is a double chapter update! Chapter 4 is waiting for you to read, literally buzzing to see what you think. I wrote it before this chapter, so I've been writing like crazy to finish Chap3. Continue on and read my lovelies, Chapter 4 awaits... as does Harry! **


	4. Chapter 4

**I do not own Spider-Man or any of the characters in the Marvel franchise, just my OC.**

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Hayley stood nervously in front of Room 136. It was 10am and time for her to begin her behaviour analysis session with Harry Osborn.

Two riot guards were stationed on either side of the door, silently clutching guns and Tasers by their sides. She knew that Ravencroft was a maximum-security facility, with the West wing housing the most violent and volatile inmates, but this was just a bit much. Even after his eventful arrival, Harry would be in a straitjacket and secured to either a bed or a bolted chair as per standard procedure. Though, patients were rarely given counsel and assessment in their rooms. They had a special floor for therapy. But then Harry was not a standard criminal with ordinary abilities. Surely a constant presence of riot guards was not necessary though? Of course Hayley felt much safer for the upped security especially considering their last meeting. She looked down solemnly at her bandaged fingers hearing the Goblin snickering in her mind.

Sighing, Hayley's thoughts once more went to Gwen Stacey, remembering that horrid phone call from Gwen's mother informing her of her dear friend's death.

* * *

_She could hardly take her eyes off the television. They kept playing the same footage over and over again, of the Goblin on his glider, holding a blonde girl in the sky. It took her a moment to register the sound of her mobile ringing._

"_Is... is this… Hayley Carmichael?" a muffled broken voice came through the phone._

_Still focusing on the news, reading and re-reading the headlines to see if there was anything new concerning Gwen, the Goblin and Spider-Man, Hayley mumbled, "Yes?"_

"_This is Helen, Helen Stacy, ah, Gwendolyne's mother… have you seen… the news dear?"_

"_Yes." Hayley closed her eyes silently praying to every god she knew of to hear good news from Mrs Stacy. All her attention was now on the phone clamped to her ear in her clammy palm._

"_I've just returned from seeing Gwen…"_

_She's alive, she must be alive, the Spider-Man will have saved her, he must have caught her, she's alive, she's alive…_

"_Yes?!"_

"_The doctors, erm, the doctors… dear, the coroner has confirmed that Gwen sustained spinal trauma and, and a broken neck when that bastard dropped her…"_

"_No…"_

"_She's… I can't even, Hayley I just… Gwen is dead," Mrs Stacy cried, every one of her words causing Hayley's heart to shattered, tears of realisation pouring down her small face._

_She's dead. Gwen is dead. I'll never see her again. That green bastard killed her. He fucking killed her._

"_The police still have some investigating to do, with some speculation of her heart giving out from shock… erm… I'm sorry, Hayley I can't, I have to go… she's gone, I, I'll call you when we've sorted out, when the funeral date is…"_

"_I'm sorry Helen… I can't believe…" _

_But Mrs Stacy had already hung up. _

_Sinking to her knees, leaning her head back against a bookshelf, Hayley started to wail with sorrow. The tears just continued to fall and they couldn't be stopped even though she sat in the same spot for well over an hour. All she could think about was never seeing Gwen again; no more Frappuccino's whilst reading in their favourite coffee shop, no celebrating when she made it in to Harvard, no more late night phone calls about her boyfriend Peter Parker. _

"_Oh my god," Hayley groaned to no one in particular, "Parker will be devastated." Fully accepting what life without Gwen Stacy would mean, Hayley cried harder, her body shaking in anguish. _

* * *

Feeling tears threatening to stain her cheeks again, Hayley snapped out of her thoughts. She really needed to get a hold of her emotions and fast. The young nurse was about to see the Goblin again. Hopefully with the right medication and counselling, the Ravencroft staff could help reform and stabilise Harry Osborn's condition. That was what Hayley's professional mind was telling her. The other part of her wanted him to stay in his cell forever and pay for his crimes.

She spied his green form in a Ravencroft orange jumpsuit through the door's window. Hayley wanted him to burn.

With anger feeding her with false confidence, Hayley nodded to the guards, shifting a clipboard into her bad hand so that she could enter the room. She clasped the large turn-lock handle, letting out a long sigh of breath she hadn't realised she'd held. One big push and the heavy metal door opened.

The cell was small, an aspect Hayley hadn't realised in the commotion of their first meeting. It was sparsely furnished; a bed by the wall opposite her, which was unkempt with the mattress hanging off the edge and leather binding straps carrying some wear and tear. Clearly there had been a struggle earlier. There was also a small sink, mirror and toilet situated in one of the room corners. Harry was sitting on a metal chair, his green and orange clothed body bound by a cream straitjacket, his ankles cuffed to the chair legs, with chains connecting the cuffs to one around his throat. An iron ring and been fused to the cell floor, with the chains confining Harry running through it – he wasn't going anywhere.

And he was quiet. Too quiet, staring directly at the ground, hunched over. He didn't even react to Hayley entering his cell.

She was used to silence during her therapy sessions but to not have the patient even acknowledge or seem to care that she had arrived was down right strange. Some inmates would plead with her that they had been falsely imprisoned, miraculous stories of how they'd changed and no longer wanted to kill or rape people. Others screamed and swore until they were blue in the face, needing a reaction to feed their obscene thoughts, goading her into loosening their restraints just so they could smell her hair. There were definitely some crazies in Ravencroft.

Realising that Harry did not yet know her name, Hayley reasoned that this was why he had failed to confirm her company.

"My name is Hayley, Nurse Hayley, you can call me the latter," she stated trying to give herself an air of authority before sitting down on the chair opposite Harry.

Still nothing.

The only sound was their breathing; hers, short and shaky, his, hardly audible. Was he even breathing? Small chime like sounds coming from his chains rustling, confirmed in Hayley's mind, that yes he was indeed very alive and breathing.

Her pen began rhythmically tapping loudly against the clipboard in her lap. This was a tactic she often used when her relationship-established patients closed themselves off from her and refused to converse. To an insane and disordered mind, the tapping pen wormed its way into their thoughts, disrupting their calm and collected façade. It was never nice to antagonise an unbalanced and dangerous person but sometimes it was needed for the sake of progression. After five minutes, it was obvious that the pen plan was failing. Miserably. It was only when Hayley looked around the room and saw water dripping in the sink that she realised that annoying sounds would not affect him.

"You could call me Hayley if you'd like? Though that's tad informal. Maybe you'd like to give me a name? Many of the patients refer to me as Ginger, or not…" Hayley tailed off, internally cursing for acting like such an idiot for the sake of conversation.

It was true; patients did call her Ginger, though those who were far into their psychosis and rarely lucid used that name. One criminal had an obsession with redheads, so much so that he had stalked and killed multiple women with fiery locks. Apparently, Hayley wasn't his type, he'd swiftly informed her, since she had copper hair instead of scarlet. His nickname for Hayley was Mary Jane, a reference to 'the one that got away'. Luckily the Spider-Man had saved the damsel that day.

_But he couldn't save Gwen_, Hayley lamented resentfully.

"Shall we begin Mr Osborn?"

"NO! Mr Osborn was my fathers name," he spat.

"Harry then?"

"Harry is DEAD!" he bitterly exclaimed with venom lacing every word.

The chains rattled at his ferocity, yet the man before her refused to visually acknowledge Hayley's presence. It was eerie considering when they first met he couldn't stop staring at her. It was sad that there was no truer statement than the one he just spoke; the CEO of OsCorp industry chained up like some sort of monster.

_Because he is a monster,_ Hayley thought.

"Goblin?" she whispered nervously.

The creature finally looked the auburn haired girl in the eye at being correctly addressed. His head was tilted down, making it appear like he was inspecting her, observing, as if she was the patient and not he.

Trying not to get caught in another freaky staring contest, Hayley hastily scribbled down some initial assessment notes regarding his behaviour;

'_No wish to be associated with father_; _resentment to family name and status? Anger and violent tendencies, sudden rage outbursts...'_

"I heard you refused to see any doctor but me," she continued.

"Refused is such a weak word, and I. Am. Not. WEAK!" Another one of the Goblin's sickening smiles graced his face following his aggressive statement. The word 'weak' rumbled in his throat and he spat it out like it offended him, burning his tongue to even say it.

_Was he hinting at something, maybe to do with the earlier struggle_?

Then realisation dawned upon Hayley.

Nurse Cadence and Doctor Scott had kept the situation pretty hushed up. Other than Gillian resigning yesterday, Hayley managed to discover that another D

doctor had been injured, and two guards had moved wings at Ravencroft. She was told all four events were unconnected. Now she realised that the man chained before her was responsible. The Goblin had done all of this.

Chaos and violence, such rage, but why?

"But why?" she asked.

"Whatever Harry Osborn wants, Harry Osborn gets!"

"And what do you want?"

"I want yooouuuu," the Goblin purred, licking his pointed teeth and chapped lips.

His blue eyes sparkled with what Hayley could only identify as lust. If only it was something as simple as lust.

The Goblin was mentally breaking more of Hayley's little fingers, grabbing her hair before smashing that petite face into the ground beneath him. That trademark smirk of his reappeared as he imagined Hayley's demise.

"You hurt four people, just because you were refused _me _as your treatment nurse?"

"Of course."

"Why?" Hayley exclaimed incredulously.

This whole situation was ridiculous; it scared her that he seemed to have narrowed in on her and no one else at Ravencroft. Hell, he had attacked people because he wanted to see her. She hoped this would not manifest into an obsession.

The Goblin began to whistle, clearly not wanting to reveal his true intent.

Sighing in frustration, Hayley took the opportunity to make a few more notes on his behaviour;

'_Uses birth name and status ONLY when needed for reinforcement; thinks name can get him anything. Slight schizophrenia - poss identity crisis? Possessive?'_

"How are your fingers?" he asked suddenly, lifting his head and pouting his lips faking concern.

Shifting her clipboard into her bandaged hand, Hayley used her right to give the Goblin a very calm and composed two fingers swear sign. She rose from her chair with as much authority as she could muster, walked towards the door and signalled for the guards to open it. All the while the Goblin fixed her with a creepy grin, raising his eyebrows to show he was impressed at her flash of personality.

Leaving the room feeling slightly victorious, she nodded encouragingly at the two guards while they securely locked the cell door. Hayley walked away holding her head high triumphantly at her rebellious courage.

She'd only taken a couple of steps before frantic high-pitched laughter emanated from Room 136. Clearly she had amused the Goblin and now he was mocking her. Joy.

* * *

**This is my longest chapter so far and was my most favourite to write! I hope you're all enjoying reading about twisted Harry. And I apologise for my long sentences with numerous commas – I have a very descriptive writing style and I love commas and semi colons – hope it still reads well for you all. **

**Also, the official song for this fanfic is from The Amazing Spider-Man 2 soundtrack, and it is called "Honest" by The Neighbourhood – go listen to it, it is awesome, and it inspired me to write this story, other than Dane's amazing acting :D**


	5. Chapter 5

**I do not own Spider-Man or any of the characters in the Marvel franchise, just my OC.**

* * *

When Hayley returned to the Nurse's station after seeing Harry, she had two people waiting of her. Doctor Scott and Nurse Cadence were having a deep conversation over coffee but stopped as soon as Hayley entered the room.

"Ah, there you are. Take a seat," spoke Doctor Scott firmly, pointing towards a vacant chair in front of him.

Hayley slowly sat down.

She'd never liked Doctor Scott. He was pompous, had a superiority complex, and acted like he owned Ravencroft. Sure, he was one of the institute's most superior doctor and scientist, but he looked down on all women and nurses, except for Cadence. He made Hayley cry in her first week on the job and continued to belittle her ever since. He preferred to give patient's overly strong medication and radical experimental therapies that bordered on torture in Hayley's opinion. Doctor Scott and Doctor Kafka, the head of Ravencroft, were both into untried and new therapies, preferring to test them on the life sentence inmates. And Hayley, with her Psychiatry background specialising in behavioural and cognitive therapy, was unwanted and seemingly beneath the two doctors. So she had been employed as a nurse and not a much-needed psychiatrist, due to her holding a duel license to practice as both.

"Before you relay how your little session went, you should know that by some miracle, Mr Osborn seems to tolerate you. So, you can continue working with him for the time being," sighed Doctor Scott, irritated at the young nurse's success where he had failed.

"Thank you Doctor Scott…"

"Yes, yes, yes. Bravo you. You have another session tomorrow morning. Now, I want you to raise the subject of getting a blood sample from him."

"A blood sample? Why."

"He seems to trust you Hayley," Cadence chimed in, taking a more gentle approach than the doctor. "We had an issue when we tried before…"

"Is that why Gillian left? And those guards? Is that why Harry lashed out?' Hayley asked, already knowing the answer. Not only did Harry hurt her co-workers because he wanted to see her, but he obviously didn't want to submit to having his blood taken.

Doctor Scott and Nurse Cadence looked at each other, confirming Hayley's suspicions.

"We weren't prepared last time. We didn't realise his aversion to needles," Cadence tried to reason.

"Maybe if you'd asked him about it before hand…"

"He's the prisoner and we are the doctors – I do not _need _his permission for anything," argued Doctor Scott. "Enough of this topic. You will make him understand that it's in his best interest to submit, do you understand? Good. Now, talk us through your session with Mr Osborn."

* * *

Hayley wandered home after her day shift, dreading going back to Ravencroft for midnight again – someone really needed to fill Gillian's slot. Not that she didn't mind the extra pay, but she was knackered and felt anxious all the time. Her back was beginning to peel again due to the stress, and with her sleeping pattern out of whack, so was her medication. She was also neglecting normal everyday life activities like food shopping, paying her bills, visiting Gwen… Hayley hadn't been to the cemetery since her friend's burial. With her mind made up, Hayley turned on her heel and drifted towards her dear friend.

* * *

The graveyard was quiet, apart from the church bells ringing out, a reminder of it being five in the afternoon. The wind rustled the trees, gently moving the decaying leaves from the branches and to the crisp ground. Making her way among the rows of stone, Hayley avoided walking past her parent's graves, taking the long way to Gwen's spot.

Gwen wasn't alone.

A tall man with brown ruffled hair was standing next to the grave, his hands in his pockets, the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Hayley hadn't seen Peter in a while. They weren't the closest friends, not by any means, more like acquaintances through their mutual friendship with Gwen. If anything, Hayley wished they knew each other better because Parker looked like he needed a hug. She wasn't the touchy feely type, especially because of her burn scars, but Hayley wanted to take away his pain. She coughed to catch his attention.

"Oh, hey, hey Hayley. It's been awhile, huh, like, not since Gwen…" Peter tried to sound upbeat but even saying Gwen's name obviously pained him greatly.

He scratched his head and scuffed his shoes in gawkiness. Hayley tried to give him a comforting smile even though she knew a smile wouldn't fix anything. A smile couldn't fix either of them. She silently stood next to Peter, following his empty gaze down to where flowers covered Gwen's grave.

"I forgot to bring flowers," Hayley mumbled lamely, "I came to speak to her. I need her advice, she always gave the best advice."

"Yeah, Gwen was great like that," Peter sniffed, turning to finally face Hayley, "Well, I guess, could I help? I know I'm not, I'm not her…"

"You're great Parker. It's just, what I need to say, humph, it might make you upset."

"Nothing you could say could possibly make me feel worse Hayley, I guarantee it."

Hayley swallowed thickly; Peter was the last person she should discuss this with. "You know I work at Ravencroft right? Well, we have a new patient and I'm, I'm his behavioural therapist…"

"Its H…Harry isn't it?" Peter whispered. He closed his eyes trying to supress the memories of that night, the night he lost Gwen.

"How can I treat him?" Hayley asked painfully, "When I know what he did to Gwen, how he killed her, that he's the reason she's gone… how…why should I help him? I hate him for what he's done. He deserves to be locked away forever. But when I see him as the Goblin and then he says that Harry is dead, I just, I have to help him, but how? How can I Parker?" she threw up her hands in desperation feeling exhausted to finally tell someone what was keeping her awake.

Peter didn't think he'd heard Hayley say that many words the whole time they'd known each other.

"Wow. O…ok, I wasn't expecting that, kinda caught me off guard here," Peter scratched his head again, fighting a war in his mind over his feelings towards the man he once called friend. "Jeez. I guess, we have to think, what, erm, what would Gwen say?"

"She'd probably tell me that everyone deserves a chance. That, if there is darkness in all of us, then there is also good?"

"Good always triumphs over evil…" Peter quoted darkly.

"I guess. I catch glimpses of the real Harry from time to time."

"He, he was my friend Hayley. I just, he hurt Gwen…"

Hayley turned to leave, having gotten her advice and sensing that Peter wanted to be alone.

"Thanks Parker, take care of yourself," she said before walking away.

"It wasn't him, it's not him, he wouldn't, but I know he did. I failed him, I failed her, I failed you Gwen… I'm sorry…but he wouldn't…" Peter babbled quietly to himself.

But Hayley had heard also and thought about his words as she made the long trip home.

* * *

It was 4am and she was outside Room 136 again.

Colin was on his break and Hayley had finished her nightly rounds without problem. And now she was back, like a moth drawn to a flame. Though if Harry were a real fire then she'd be nowhere near him; Hayley didn't need to be burned again. She had reasoned with herself the whole night on why she shouldn't and wouldn't check in on him. However she'd heard mumbling and talking coming from his cell. So here she was, hunched by his room door, trying to stay hidden from him as she looked through the window.

He was sitting in front of the mirror again. Except this time he was talking to his reflection. No, it was more than that, it almost sounded like there was someone else in there with him. Hayley quickly glanced around the dark room but saw no one. She could hear an angry deep rumbling voice that she identified as the Goblin. The other she didn't recognise; a soft and smooth voice coated with charm and upper class sophistication. Hayley couldn't hear the exact words but the two seemed to be in a heated debate about something.

Where had she heard that voice before? It did sound familiar…

"Wha' you doin' down 'ere this late Hayley?" Colin questioned suspiciously making Hayley jump out of her skin.

"Jeez Colin! Never do that again!"

"Well, maybe if you weren't creepin' around I wouldn't of scared ya!" The guard looked at Harry through the door window, "He likes to chat to 'imself at night. Bloody weirdo."

"Yeah. I just wanted to check his behaviour," Hayley said, quickly scribbling incomprehensible notes on her clipboard.

"'Course you did. 'N now you 'ave, you should go back to ya office," Colin said firmly, giving Hayley a gentle push towards the direction of the West wing exit.

She nodded sheepishly and reluctantly walked away, knowing she had been caught spying on her own patient.

* * *

Hayley sat at her desk in the Nurse's station with a hot mug of black coffee; it was bitter and almost too hot to drink, but she needed to stay awake. It was 5am and she was feeling haunted after witnessing Harry in his cell. She needed to write up her session with Harry, maybe even what she'd just seen, and now was a better time than any.

Swallowing more vile liquid, she pulled up Harry's file, opened a blank report document and began to type. Hayley was tapping at her keyboard for well over an hour, but couldn't seem to transcribe her snooping on Harry in his cell. It felt like she'd invaded his privacy, even though in Ravencroft no one had any privacy, especially the incarcerated.

_Maybe it was a one off thing,_ she wondered, _there's no point in recording it when maybe he was just lonely?_

All Hayley knew, is that she wasn't going to write about it in her report. Clicking save, she began to close all the open windows on her computer screen. Something caught her eye in Harry's open folder; it now contained more files than were there a couple hours ago.

_That's strange_, Hayley thought.

Thinking nothing of it, she clicked open a video file. The displayed recording was filmed from a rather odd angle. It was only when she saw numbers counting in the corner did she realise that the footage was from a security camera. Curiously she leaned closer, gasping when a very normal, very human Harry Osborn came on the screen pointing a gun at an older male.

* * *

It was 9.45am and she was already standing hesitantly outside his cell, Colin leaning against the wall watching her carefully.

"'E's not wearin' a straitjacket no more" he informed Hayley warily, "Rips through 'em with his nails every time we get near 'im with one, _sniff_, chains more effective anyways."

"I don't think he's insane anyway," Hayley muttered under her breath.

"You wha'?"

"He's just angry, not crazy"

Giving her a disbelieving look, Colin turned the locking mechanism on the cell door and let her in, shaking his head as he closed it behind her.

Harry was the same as before, seated and bound in chains. He gave Hayley a charming smile, nodding towards the chair opposite him; this was his room and people did what he told them to do. He was an Osborn, and everyone should listen to him and do as he said. Besides, he wanted to feel like he had control over the situation.

"Now, we'd like to start you on a course of tablets to help you sleep. It's not a very high dose but I think it might make you more comfortable," she spoke quickly, taking her seat, placing a Tupperware box on the ground by her feet.

"And _you_ care about _my_ comfort?"

"I care about all my patient's health and wellbeing,"

"Even murderers?"

Looking the monster straight in the eyes, Hayley said with an encouraging smile, "Even you." She needed to build up his trust in the system, in her, if he was ever going to let them take his blood.

Something about that comment struck a cord with the human part inside the Goblin; no one had ever cared about Harry before. She didn't have to say ''you', Hayley could have simply agreed. But no, she directly addressed him, as if he mattered to her.

Did he matter to her?

"Since you've been unable to sleep these past nights…"

"Been a regular Nancy Drew have we?" he murmured, cocking an eyebrow knowingly.

"… you will take one now, and then start the course properly at 9pm nightly."

Shifting from her chair, Hayley plucked a miniature paper cup from her Tupperware box, which held a lone sleeping pill. She looked at the Goblin, whose eyes were sparkling with a mischievous nature. Maintaining eye contact, Harry raised his chained hands up as far as he could, shaking his arms awkwardly from side to side. There was an obvious lack of freedom in his movements. That was when Hayley realised there was going to be a problem; how would he take the medication when his hands couldn't reach his mouth?

In that moment, Hayley wished she could slap that taunting grin off his smug face.

She held little blue oblong tablet expertly between her thumb and forefinger; Harry opened his mouth and flicked his tongue expectantly, relishing in the nurse's uneasiness with the situation. Now it was time for him to have a little fun.

Trying to keep her distance, Hayley stepped nearer to the bolted ring on the floor that held firm Harry's binding chains. Both were silent, as she reached forward, placing the pill inside his mouth. That was when the Goblin took his chance and closed his teeth down on her forefinger.

"Have a finger fetish? Or do you want to break some more of my bones?" the young nurse snapped. Although she sounded brave, Hayley had a feeling he wasn't going to hurt her.

His discoloured teeth only trapped her finger, holding it inside his mouth, causing Hayley to blush with embarrassment. Though his teeth were sharp, he wasn't biting Hayley or producing lasting physical discomfort. Not like in their previous meetings.

The Goblin had already felt her touch and now he wanted to taste her. He flicked his devilish tongue around the captured dainty digit, eyeing Hayley intently for a reaction. She parted her lips sucking sharply at the cool air in shock. Harry thought she tasted glorious.

Feeling his hold slacken when an impish satisfied grin appeared, Hayley tried to remove her finger as quickly as possible to not prolong the awkwardness. Harry wanted to continue Hayley's discomfort; puckering his lips, her finger came out much slower, extending their contact. For Hayley, this was torturous, though her body thought otherwise. Harry spied heat rash crawling across her flushed chest.

He managed to kiss her fingertip before she hastily pulled her hand away. Glancing up at her like a naughty schoolboy, Harry waited patiently for Hayley to regain her focus before bringing him a cup of water to swallow down the pill. She refused to look into his startling eyes; they were dangerous to gaze at, penetrating and evil, but still human.

After consuming the pill, the Goblin nodded to her rouged chest, "You look burnt or are you just red from embarrassment?"

It was an instinctive reaction, one she would kick herself for later as it exposed a weak spot, but in that moment Hayley lost her professional resolve.

She dropped the paper cup; water droplets splashing the legs of his orange prison jumpsuit, making the Goblin watch her in fascination. The way her face had gone blank, almost in horror at his words. At how much paler, if that was even possible, her porcelain skin had become. How she leaped towards the dirty mirror above his sink, pulling the relaxed collar of her shirt open more, intently inspecting the place he had noticed. She dabbed and pulled at her skin as if she was making sure that it was an embarrassed flush on her skin and nothing else.

The flustered girl didn't realise that if he craned his neck, Harry could see her reflection in the mirror. His hungry eyes memorised the way her collarbones stuck out slightly, how soft her skin seemed, and the nasty scarlet scars decorating her shoulders. Now that was something he hadn't expected.

He sighed loudly, marvelling at how interesting his little ginger nurse was quickly becoming. He still wanted to kill her – no one touched Harry Osborn – but now Harry was beginning to think that she might be more interesting to keep around. Hayley was innocent yet scarred, quiet but with a sassy side; she was a delightful enigma. Much more interesting than the vapid models he'd been with in a previous life.

His sigh jolted Hayley out of her moment with the mirror and she realised she'd yet to inform him about the blood sample. The room felt stifling for Hayley whereas the Goblin was as cool as a cucumber, relaxed and enjoying no longer being alone.

It was now or never.

She returned quickly to her chair, picked up the Tupperware box and slowly backed away towards the exit.

"Not going to say goodbye? I'm offended!" the Goblin said smoothly, a glimpse of Harry's playboy personality slipping past the monster's mask.

Hayley, turned, bracing herself for what she had to say next; "Tomorrow morning Doctor Scott will be taking a sample of your blood. It's, it is in your best interest to comply or…"

Immediately his demeanour changed.

"THEY CAN'T HAVE IT! NO! YOU BETRAYED ME! YOU'RE JUST LIKE HIM!" the Goblin bellowed, standing off his chair as far as he could, rattling his chains wildly. He kicked the chair angrily, screaming, trying to rip off his bindings. He wanted to kill her.

In that moment, Hayley saw the monster that had killed Gwen, and she knew if he was free she'd be dead too. All she could hear was his voice echoing in his cell. She barley noticed Colin and another guard bursting through the door and tackling him to the floor just as the cuffs on his wrists broke.

"GET OUT HAYLEY, GET OUT!" Colin yelled, trying to get through to a stunned Hayley who had slide down the opposite wall, sitting on the ground shell shocked.

"YOU'RE BOTH THE SAME! I HATE YOU! YOU. ARE. JUST. LIKE. HIM!"

* * *

**I just can't seem to stop writing this story! Had a wonderful dream last night about Harry and Hayley… future chapter material, I think so! **

**Huge thanks to everyone who is reading and enjoying my first fanfic; all the views, reviews, followers and favourites make me so happy. To my guest reviewers who I can't personally PM, know that your reviews make me smile.**

**Hope you enjoyed this chapter lovelies.**


	6. Chapter 6

**I do not own Spider-Man or any of the characters in the Marvel franchise, just my OC.**

* * *

After seeing her in an unresponsive state after Mr Osborn's outburst, Colin had strongly recommended to Doctor Scott that Hayley take the night off. And by some miracle the doctor had agreed. Hayley had only spoke to question who would start the patient's new course of sleeping pills that night. Apparently, Human Resources at OsCorp had finally approved their request and given Ravencroft funding for extra staff in the West wing. Along with more trained riot guards on patrol, an additional three nurses had been assigned to that wing – Doctor Scott had chosen candidates that lacked the required skills so that they could be easily manipulated. The three female nurses were also extremely attractive, as the doctor hoped they would appeal to Mr Osborn's patent for dating models. Maybe now he would forget that ginger twit and start being more receptive to Doctor Scott's treatment techniques. He would try out the curvaceous Cheryl first.

* * *

That evening, Hayley sat in bed with a cold and neglected Pot Noodle, reflecting on Harry's sudden change earlier that day. She knew he'd be angry; it was stupid to think he'd be pleased, especially considering how he'd reacted when they tried to take a sample previously. Sure she hadn't been his therapist long but Hayley honestly thought she had built a little bit of trust between them.

Mindlessly lifting a forkful of limp noodles into her mouth, Hayley remembered the way Harry had looked at her before Colin had grabbed him. The raw hurt and anger in his eyes was just so ferocious it had honestly scared her more than when he had broken her fingers. Hayley had never seen someone look so betrayed – she felt like a failure. It was like Doctor Scott was setting her up to fail, like he didn't believe in her as a psychiatrist. Which he didn't of course, hence why he hired her as a nurse and forced her to do psychotherapy but without the title.

Sure she was young but maybe that was why Harry trusted her because they were similar ages. All she knew now was that all her hard work had been undone… and that the Pot Noodle tasted disgusting. Setting it on her bedside table, she quickly brushed her teeth in the bathroom before returning to her bed to sleep.

Sleep did not come easily for Hayley that night. Her Amitriptyline tablets always made her sleepy, however she suffered from chronic nightmares, many of which involved fire. Though tonight was an exception…

Hayley dreamt she was standing in a bright circular room, full of strange scientific devices she had never seen before - it looked like she had stepped into an episode of Dr Who. She was alone. The strip lights above were overly bright, hurting her eyes as she inspected an extraordinary metal robot with eight long arms locked away behind some glass.

All of a sudden, a loud shout of pain coming from behind caught her attention. Spinning around wildly, Hayley saw Harry Osborn in a black t-shirt and jeans, on his knees clutching at his body. The pain looked so intense that Harry was ripping off his shirt like it was burning his skin. Alarm bells started to ring and the lights began to flash, except nothing could disturb Hayley's focus on the man's naked back. Harry leaned backwards yelling out at the uncontrollable searing agony that was overtaking his body. He then collapsed on the floor in front of her, his body shaking as if he was having a seizure. Hayley tried to close her eyes, look away, anything to not witness Harry coming apart before her. But she couldn't move. She was stuck, rooted in place, unable to blink, eyes forced to watch the man turn into a monster.

Harry's body began to pulse, veins throbbing abnormally green, whilst his voice never ceased with its penetrating screams. It looked like he was burning inside; sweat dripping profusely off his back and forehead. Hayley uncomfortably observed how his muscles and bones seemed to be reforming themselves, making Harry move erratically on the floor. He gripped the ground like a caged animal as his nails began to grow, his hair lost that pretty boy side sweep due to his excessive sweating, and angry green sores covered his body. Even his teeth began to shatter because he was gnashing them together so violently.

Harry Osborn was dying. Hayley was watching a man die.

Finally, he began to crawl away from her, pulling himself towards a green metallic suit. The glass doors enclosing it opened when Harry neared them, breathing heavily, as if it was his only hope to reach it. Hayley wished she could go to him; ease his pain instead of standing frozen like an idiot. After what seemed like an eternity, Harry was at last standing up in the suit, sighing deeply as it began to mould to his body. The suit whirred and beeped as it came to life and responded by starting to hover on a glider above the ground. Harry opened his eyes, revealing a more intense shade of ice blue, as he smiled wickedly at Hayley, finally noticing her. The pain that plagued him before seemed to have vanished. Silently he glided to where she stood, reaching out to grasp her hands in his. Harry smiled innocently. Then he twisted both her hands, laughing as she screamed in agony when her wrist bones snapped and broke through skin…

"SHIT!" Hayley screamed, sitting bolt upright in her bed, knocking the lamp beside her over in fright and spilling noodles everywhere.

Even her fingernails had nipped into her palms and drawn blood she was so scared. She had never had a nightmare that vivid before. It was so real. Like she had actually been in the room when Harry transformed. Hayley had tried to forget what she had seen in that video clip she'd discovered in his computer file. The security camera angle hadn't caught the whole of Harry's metamorphosis into the Goblin, she had only heard his screams, seen him pointing a gun to an older man, and seen him writhing on the ground.

But that dream… her imagination wasn't that good! Maybe it was because they were in such close contact that Hayley's subconscious mind had run wild tonight.

Getting out of bed, she decided to take a very long and very cold shower. It was obvious she wasn't going to sleep tonight.

* * *

Someone else was having trouble sleeping; the Goblin was pacing his cell in the dead of night. He had refused to take his second sleeping pill that evening and was now slightly regretting it.

After Hayley had left the cell, the two guards had sedated him and removed all his chains, bar the cuffs around his feet, like they did every time his therapy sessions ended. He had so much pent up rage when he awoke that upon seeing some blonde outside his door with the medication, the Goblin tried to throw the spare chair in his room at her through the glass window. Obviously those stupid guards had forgotten to remove it. And now he was awake, bored, and pondering why Hayley had not returned for her night shift. Not that we wanted to see her, she had betrayed him after all. But then, she was a constant in the never ending days he spent alone his cell.

"I should have choked the life right out of her then and there," the Goblin spoke aloud, flexing his fingers, imagining her beautiful throat breaking...

"_You know you don't want her dead. She's too interesting to kill."_

There was that charming voice again. It only came at night when the Goblin couldn't sleep. Sighing, he sat in front of the murky mirror staring at his reflection intently.

"She's far more beautiful than that Gwen girl," the Goblin concurred. "Asking for my blood was a mistake. And she will pay for it."

"_It was probably that stupid Doctor Knobhead that put her up to it. Besides it's her job!"_

"You're weak, Harry. Why do you think I came out to play, hmmm?"

"_But imagine how much fun it would be to have Hayley, and not just toy with her, I mean have her for good?" _Harry Osborn tried to reason.

"Ginge is a stunning specimen," the Goblin agreed with his likeness in the mirror.

"_Exactly! She's hot!"_

"Those scars on her shoulders, now that is an interesting feature."

"_If you kill her, we'll never find out how that happened!"_

"I bet they run down her back like fallen angel wings…" the Goblin licked his lips, thinking about her auburn hair cascading over her slim spine, and how he would add a few more scars to that delicious body.

"_You can't hurt her dammit! Then she'll end up looking like us! Like a monster!"_

The Goblin snarled at his reflection seeing the weakness of Harry Osborn emanating behind his own eyes. He punched the wall next to the mirror in anger and turned from it, effectively ending the conversation.

"We look like this because of Spider-Man, because Peter betrayed us!" he yelled to himself before restlessly lying down on his bed. "Though, the prospect of feeling her touch again, her body, is something, I'll admit, is worth not killing her for."

* * *

Hayley could hear the shouts of the guards and Harry's bellowing before she'd even entered the West wing.

She had told them not to start without her, but only being his preferred nurse and not a doctor, she really didn't have a say in the matter. Picking up the pace, she sprinted towards the sounds, knowing her path without even paying proper attention. When she had passed an excessive amount of guards outside Room 136, Hayley saw six doctors, five riot guards with guns, and Colin, all crammed with Harry in his tiny cell. Colin and another guard were on the ground wrestling with the Goblin who was attacking them back in response.

"Goblin… GOBLIN STOP!"

Everyone stopped and stared at the pint-sized nurse, because even though her hair was ferocious, she'd never asserted that much fiery dominance before. Well, not at work at least. The doctors and guards parted, though the guns were still trained on the Osborn boy. Colin and his partner removed themselves from the now still Goblin, who sat up as if none of it had ever happened.

All eyes were on her and Hayley was beginning to regret her outburst. She hated to stand out in the crowd. She preferred to blend in, go unnoticed. But everyone in the room noticed her now and she was growing self-conscious.

"Burnt yourself again Ginge? Twice in one day, you really need some self control," laughed the Goblin, thinking how funny it was that heat rash actually looked somewhat cute on Hayley. However, still sensing he was in danger, he viciously eyed the guards, wary of the guns still pointed at him.

"Goblin, look at me" she said firmly, squatting down to be on his eye level; Hayley clicked her fingers in his face to grab his attention. He made a snatch for her hand and she let him, rolling her eyes, wondering why her fingers always seemed so damn fascinating.

"Doctor Scott needs…mmm…would like to take that blood sample now."

"He's tried and failed - Harry Osborn will not be a lab rat."

"We want the blood to…"

"_You_ want it?" he asked indignantly, no longer focusing on how dainty her hand was in his, but noticing her words and their sudden close proximity.

"No, they… I mean, yes. Yes Goblin. _I_ want it. I want your blood to _help_ you." She leaned closer to him so that only he would hear what she had to say next, "I've seen footage of when you transformed. I know you were dying and were desperate. I know how much you look in the mirror and hate what you see, that underneath it all you wish you were Harry again."

Using his other hand, the Goblin flicked a pointed finger back and forth, disagreeing with her last words. He then plucked a lock of her copper hair between his outstretched fingers, stroking it in a manner that exceeded a normal patient/nurse relationship.

"Harry _is_ dead," he whispered slowly trying to emphasize his point.

"No. No he isn't," Hayley countered, taking her free hand and placing it over his tainted green one that held her soft ginger strands. "I know you're in there Harry."

Playing along with her game, the Goblin nodded slowly, releasing one of her hands so he could look at his now free and open arm. Taking this as obedience, Hayley turned towards the crowd of watching doctors, motioning for one to come and take the sample. Luckily Doctor Scott wasn't holding the venepuncture because she knew that the Goblin would most likely become hostile again.

One of his assistants nervously stepped forward instead and knelt beside the unlikely pair. He then proceeded to roll up the sleeve of Harry's prison clothes. Hayley made to move away but stopped when she felt the Goblin's hold on her hand tighten. Sitting tight, she observed the assistant doctor place the thick needle into the uncovered green hued arm with shaking hands. It was then that she felt some discomfort in her own hand and realised that the subdued monster beside her was clutching at it desperately.

Underneath the transformation, the anger, the murderer and the monster, Harry Osborn was simply human. A human who was afraid of needles.

* * *

***1 Week later***

"I don't think much of that new nurse. The peroxide blonde girl. Not as interesting to look at," Harry spoke as soon as Hayley walked in the room, "She's missing that certain _fire_; she's not like you Ginge." He offered the young nurse a genuine smile, clearly catching her off guard with his pleasantness after their eventful meeting the previous week.

Hayley had not been granted more session time with Harry since Doctor Scott had demanded the blood sample. The doctor was growing increasingly frustrated at how Mr Osborn seemed to respond to such an inexperienced idiot of a nurse. Especially after how he had witnessed Hayley stroll in, late, then start shouting like she owned the place. And, to top it all off, she had engaged in inappropriate behaviour with a patient, a murderer! In front of everyone! He had had the situation under control. She was only meant to be present to _ease _Mr Osborn's behaviour, not disrespect Scott's doctorate and position at Ravencroft. The girl was becoming too much of an inconvenience and was the cause of every headache he'd had since Mr Osborn's arrival.

After the sample had been taken, he'd called her directly into his office and reprimanded her. Doctor Scott informed Hayley that she had lost rights to her patient and was very close to loosing her job due to her unsuitable conduct. He enjoyed watching the horror flash across her face when he threatened her employment at Ravencroft. Pleased with his actions, the doctor became thoroughly annoyed when that new blonde nurse informed him of Mr Osborn's refusal to take any medication all week. The patient had not slept due to abruptly stopping the drugs, becoming increasingly erratic and violent. He had even tried to attack a more senior nurse that Doctor Scott had assigned to Mr Osborn to replace Hayley. It had killed him to go back on his word and reinstate her as Mr Osborn's primary nurse and part-time psychiatrist.

"I think you mean Cheryl?" said Hayley.

"Peroxide."

"Do you always call people by their hair colour?"

"Only the models and people who aren't important enough to keep track of." Spying disappointment flash across her face at his words, he continued on to say, "Ginge is an endearment; it does not denote your unimportance. Besides, your hair is too beautiful to ignore."

"And Cheryl's is too bright and trashy to ignore."

The Goblin couldn't supress his delight at her retort. He could see she was embarrassed by his compliment and when he had touched her. Maybe she was not used to male attention, especially if she concealed a scarred secret beneath her clothes.

Hayley felt his eyes on her and shifted around in her chair under his lustful scrutinizing gaze. Noticing that the conversation was veering off topic, she tried to regain both their focus.

"Why have you been refusing your pills? You look like you could do with the sleep," Hayley asked, realising that his green skin colour could not quite conceal the dark bags beneath his eyes,

"I wanted to see how long it took for you to notice," he spoke nonchalantly, crossing his legs as best he could with the cuffs around his feet.

It was like he thought that medication could just be stopped and started whenever he pleased, and his noncompliance was starting to piss Hayley off.

"Seriously? Look, I've been reinstated as your primary nurse now…"

"Which was _my_ doing."

"…and you've been here for almost a month. So I really think we should start progressing with your therapy." She was exasperated by the situation and how she really hadn't been doing her job very well thus far.

"Therapy? I thought you were just a nurse Ginge."

"If you must know, I am also trained as psychiatrist and have a dual medical license to practise as both," Hayley replied, "Though I am employed as a nurse by Ravencroft."

"A woman of many faces. So, are you going to be my fairy godmother and magically make the monster disappear? Hmmm? Or will you be stereotypical and ask me how I_ feel_ about everything?" the Goblin sassed sarcastically.

"Actually I was going to ask about your father."

* * *

**AHHHHHH! Sorry for the cliff-hanger – I'm so evil!**

**Btw guys, there is nothing wrong with peroxide hair, I just imagine Cheryl to be one of those people who literally gets by on looks. Also, I really hate Doctor Scott he is such a dick! **

**And I hope the scene between the Goblin and Harry made sense – it's a twist on the scene from the original Spider-Man film where Norman Osborn is talking to the Goblin in the mirror. It was an interesting challenge to write. I also hope it didn't read like something from LOTR - I don't want to go into Gollum territory, just schizophrenic psychosis. **

**Love and hugs to reviewers, followers and favourite-button pressers – you guys are freaking awesome! **


	7. Chapter 7

**I do not own Spider-Man or any of the characters in the Marvel franchise… If I did, I think wanting Harry and Loki as my boyfriends would be a dangerous love triangle! I only own my OC.**

* * *

The Goblin's eyes flashed darkly at her requested topic of conversation. Hayley knew she was treading on thin ice particularly since his trust in her was constantly being tested. However, she had long suspected that at the root of his issues was a boy trying to win his father's approval. It was almost a textbook case minus the whole Goblin transformation. She'd done some research before their session in preparation; his previous medical records indicated alcoholism and an addiction to Oxycodone. With his party heavy lifestyle splashed over the papers, a new model girlfriend every month and constant trips abroad, it was like Harry was trying to avoid revisiting his childhood home.

"He's dead," the Goblin stated shortly, clearly annoyed at the serious turn in their session.

After a few minutes of heavy silence, it was obvious to Hayley that he wasn't about to elaborate. She would have to be clever in her approach, clever enough to make the Goblin reveal information without realising, without admitting he was weak.

"It says in your file that Norman Osborn died of symptoms and health issues related to his illness Retroviral Hyperplasia," Hayley stated, casually tapping her pen on her notepad.

Having never officially discussed his past, Hayley did not know what to expect from the Goblin during this session. He was always so guarded and closed off, never revealing much of himself, except when he felt vulnerable or emotionally strained. She was going to use a reverse psychology method with him. By seemingly acting like she thought there was good in Norman Osborn, Hayley hoped that would further piss the Goblin off to make him reveal his inner feelings. It was a gamble, probably a stupid one, but having no parents through her childhood as well, Hayley understood why Harry would be closed off about the subject. She just hoped he wouldn't try and attack her.

"Does his death upset you?

"And why would it upset me?"

"Because without family, we are all truly alone."

"Does my file say that the bastard passed the disease on to me? Of all the things he gave me; his money, his name, fame, OsCorp, and now the Osborn curse," the Goblin spoke bitterly, clearly unimpressed by his father's audacity at giving him a disease that was hereditary.

Hayley started to write down her observations in the notebook on her lap;

'_Materialistic, possessions seem to be worth more, can hide behind them. Osborn curse - fantasizing condition? Believes father chose to give him the disease, final act before death – past rejection due to illness?'_

"On his deathbed, he told me to just deal with it," he muttered angrily.

Having worked with many of Ravencroft's inmates, nothing seemed to shock Hayley anymore; the world was a bad place full of darkness and destruction. Other than her own past and now Harry's Goblin transformation, the things she had heard and seen from her patients had never haunted her. But for a father to show no sign of love or recognition of a family bond always tugged on Hayley's heartstrings. The things she remembered about her own father were not particularly pleasant.

"Freud and Jung argue that a father is very important to a boy's development of identity; would you agree with this statement?"

"He shipped me off to boarding school when I was eleven so he didn't have to look at me."

"I'll take that as a yes."

According to Freud, sons feel competitive with their father due to dominance and society's view that men are to be the head of the family.

_With Norman Osborn being the CEO and founder of such a large enterprise, how could Harry ever compete with that amount of success?_ Hayley thought.

In her studies, Hayley had read that Freudian psychologists believed that in some cases, it was worse for the son to win a battle against the father than to lose; Harry had lost any chance of winning a battle, winning his father's approval and affection when Norman died. However, the one battle Harry could win, would be to succeed were his father had failed – he could stop the disease from killing him. This conflict inside of Harry, to be everything his father was and more, that was what Hayley suspected was fueling the Goblin's anger.

'_Internal battle to best Norman, to be recognised as better – anger manifestation rooted deeply, no normal father figure. Rash and abrasive personality, no guidance in normal behavior…'_

"Did your father show you any affection? Is there a memory of him that makes you smile?" Hayley asked already knowing the answer was most likely to be no.

"I received a bottle of Scotch for my 16th birthday…"

"A 'welcome to manhood' gift?"

The presence of a strong father figure during childhood is integral for a son to develop a positive sense of self-masculinity; Hayley hastily scribbled down;

'_Start of alcoholism? Sense of masculinity through drink reinforced by father at crucial developmental stage. Reminder of self worth, well lack off…'_

"It was sent by one of his assistants at OsCorp. Even had a typed card that read 'with compliments' and a photocopied signature. Such a _caring_ father, Ginge," smiled the Goblin bleakly.

"What about your mother, Emily? She died when you were seven – did her death not bring you and your father closer together?"

"HA! Listen to yourself Ginge, what are you trying to prove? That Norman Osborn was a good businessman, a loving father?"

As much as it felt horrible to do, Hayley internally smiled at the success of the reverse psychology method she was using on Harry. He was revealing a lot more than she thought he would. Sure he wasn't going into details or explaining his feelings, but nonetheless he _was_ conversing with Hayley.

"The first time he hit me was the day my mother died. He kept shouting how it was all my fault, that if I had _never_ been born then she would have lived!" The Goblin stood from his chair, his voice growing louder and more heated as he began to uncover more and more. "He never loved me. Life is not a fairytale, there is no happy ending, no love, no happiness…"

"But…"

"Did you know that _my_ father spent more time following Peter than having a relationship with me?"

"Parker?"

"You _know_ him?"

"Of course! What's this got to do with Peter?"

"EVERYTHING! ARGHH!"

The Goblin grabbed the chair behind him and threw it at Hayley, who dived to the ground to avoid it, though not before the chair leg grazed her cheek. There was a loud clatter behind as it made contact with the cold stonewall. She looked at the Goblin who was breathing heavily staring at the damaged chair; his fists clenched in anger, teeth bared, standing tall, drunk on the adrenaline coursing through his veins. He looked so powerful and Hayley was once again reminded of how deadly her patient could be. In the dim light, it almost seemed like his skin had gone a darker shade of green. The veins on his face and neck were definitely more prominent. She was certain he hadn't been _that _green a few minutes ago. The Goblin always had splotchy skin and a jaundice glow, but his skin looked more vivid now.

Hayley's bandaged hand quickly went to her face; small spots of fresh blood stained her fingers. She hissed at the pain. It was then that the Goblin's glowing eyes shifted to the nurse on the floor. Concern flashed across his face at the sight of blood running down her face. He shuffled as close to her as his chains would allow, before crouching down, reaching his cuffed hands towards her injured face.

Scaly green finger softly cupped her face, turning her head slightly so that the Goblin could inspect the damage he had caused. Her face felt so small in his hands and her eyes were such a striking shade of emerald that he thought it was ironic how the colour which made him so hideous, made her look beautiful. He was so close that he could feel her shaking; she was frightened. Hayley held her breath. Sighing, the Goblin broke away from her, removing his hands, before sitting backwards onto the ground. Although his face seemed void of emotion, Hayley could clearly see rejection radiating from his eyes.

A noise, knuckles knocking on glass, made Hayley turn sharply; Colin was giving her a concerned look, harshly jabbing his finger at her and then back to him, signalling for her to leave the room. Slowly, gripping her chair for support, Hayley stood from the ground.

Seeing her about to leave, the Goblin put his head in his hands and turned away from her. He looked so helpless like a child who didn't know there own strength. Hayley was about to move towards him when she heard Colin banging impatiently on the door.

"I've got everything under control Colin," Hayley said hotly, slamming the cell door closed behind her.

""'E just threw a chair at ya!"

"He was not trying to hurt me,"

"Are you fuckin' kiddin' me? Hayley, ya face is bleedin'!" Colin looked over her face and tiny frame trying to identify more cuts and bruises. Upon finding none, he focused back to her face, noting that the cut was only shallow and not too severe.

"Colin! I've literally just made a break through here, so will you _please_ let me do my job!"

"Look 'ere, I'm just doin' mine…"

"Exactly! You've chained him to the floor, ok? He cannot get to me!"

"Didn't look that way…" Colin was growing increasingly concerned by the young nurse's behavior with Mr. Osborn; he didn't want his friend to get hurt.

"Colin, you are not a psychiatrist, I am! I do not need to explain my therapy techniques, especially to you!"

"Fine." Seeing he was fighting a loosing battle, Colin gestured towards the cell, reluctantly allowing Hayley to return inside. He didn't like how his friend seemed different around that monster; she seemed more aggressive, more dangerously confident. It was a far cry from the shy mousey kid he met a year ago.

Once back in Room 136, Hayley sat on her own chair, feeling flustered from her spat with Colin. She felt bad for fighting with the guard but everyone seemed to expect her to fail. No one had any confidence in her abilities and she was sick of it. It was like they had all given up on Harry, like they only thought of him as a monster. Maybe OsCorp and Ravencroft wanted to keep Harry Osborn buried. She couldn't let that happen. She knew what it was like for people to only see a monster.

After her parents died, Gwen and Officer Stacy had visited her on the Burns Ward. Hayley was the only child on the ward at that time, surrounded by adult patients with worse burns than her. She was so scared one day that little Hayley ran to the Children's Ward play area and hid in the playhouse to avoid seeing the burn patients. When the other children found her, they screamed and cried, calling her a monster and a freak because of the burns that covered her. They threw toys at her, saying she should have died in the fire with her parents, so they wouldn't have to look at her ugly face.

It was only with the arrival of Gwen, who had perfect blonde hair and a pretty pink dress that Hayley began to feel like a normal child again. Young Gwen had run up to her, jumped on her bed and shoved a My Little Pony toy in her face. Apparently Princess Sherbet Hooves was now Hayley's toy so that when Gwen visited every week they could play Pony Paradise together; Gwen's horse was called Sugar Cube Starlight.

Even as a ten year old, Hayley was amazed at her new friend's ability to ignore the burned monster that all the other children could see her as. Gwen never gave up on her, so Hayley wouldn't give up on Harry Osborn.

"You threw a chair at me," Hayley said to the Goblin's back.

"I did."

"They will stop our sessions if you continue to be violent towards me. I…I cannot help you if you hurt me Harry."

"_I'm sorry,"_ came a strange muffled voice.

"Pardon?"

Turning to face her, the Goblin smirked when he saw the dried blood on her face;

"I said, next time I throw a chair, I won't miss."

* * *

**Pretty heavy chapter on the feels I think! I got a tad emotional when writing Hayley's bullying memory – children can be so cruel. For some people it might seem strange that children so young would tell someone to die, but trust me, even at that age, bullying can be a horrendous experience!**

**Next chapter will be extra long! Love to everyone who's reading this, you are all so wonderful!**


	8. Chapter 8

**I do not own Spider-Man or any of the characters in the Marvel franchise, just my OC.**

* * *

That peroxide girl was at his door again; she was knocking tentatively on the window to get his attention. The Goblin sighed, rolled off his bed and slowly stretched to get the kinks out of his back.

After Ginge left this morning, he'd been thinking about how their sessions could end if he didn't start actively accepting the help she offered. Of course it was ridiculous that he even needed therapy to begin with – he was strong now, the Goblin had his weakness under control. Or did he? He thought about the moment when Harry had stupidly apologised to the auburn beauty. How dare he! The Goblin had taken control because that trust-fund boy was _weak; _he had saved them both! It was annoying enough to have him squawking nonsense in his head but now he was trying to regain control. Maybe taking the sleeping pills would get Harry to shut up; the Goblin _did_ need a good nights sleep.

When the Goblin was standing in front of the door, nurse Cheryl slid a panel on the adjacent wall to reveal a small letterbox shaped hole. She motioned from him to place is hands through the slot. Once they were, Cheryl dropped two small sleeping pills into his cuffed gnarled hands. He noticed how the blonde did not physically touch his palms and had even shuddered when she had seen his green fingers. The Goblin moved in front of the door again so that Cheryl could see through the glass window that he'd placed the pills into his mouth. Then it was back to the slot to receive a small paper cup of water to wash them down. Cheryl quickly passed through the cup, which the Goblin took, but not before noticing how horrid looking the nurse's hands were. They weren't as smooth or delicate as Hayley's; disgusting tacky jeweled false nails were stuck on the end of each finger.

"You know I could break your fingers if I wanted," the Goblin threatened through the glass, "but your hands are not _worthy_ of my attention."

The peroxide blonde just stared at him before blowing a huge bubble of gum from her mouth, popping it, then noisily munching the sweet between her unnaturally white teeth. He snarled at her tackiness. God he wanted to kill her too but only because the blonde was _so_ damn irritating. It was exhausting just looking at her.

Cheryl closed the letterbox panel and walked down the hall without even acknowledging the Goblin further. He too moved away from the door and plopped himself on his uncomfortable bed to wait for the pills to kick in.

That night, the Goblin began to dream about killing Cheryl and all the other staff at Ravencroft – it would be glorious to see them all burn and scream in pain. When they were all dead, he noticed dream Hayley standing next to him, her fingers still broken. Lifting them to his face, the Goblin instantly felt calm with her hands touching his tarnished skin.

* * *

A couple of hours after Cheryl had left, the Goblin was disturbed from his drug induced sleep by an unscheduled visitor opening his door. He doubted it was Hayley as he'd already been informed of their session the in two days time. With sleep heavy eyes, he groggily made out the shadows of two well-built males from the yellow light shining his door window. He could briefly hear noises as if someone was shouting at him.

"Get up! Come on pretty boy, get up!"

"What's wrong with him Colin? Looks like he's fucked up!"

"Probs be 'is meds. 'Es gona be fucked up in a minute!" Colin said menacingly, rubbing his knuckles together in preparation.

The guard had been waiting for Hayley to no longer be assigned the night shift so that he could round up the lads and get revenge. That Osborn kid deserved to be taught a lesson for what he did to Gillian and his boys Bill and Ernie. Plus, Colin did not like the way he seemed so interested in the ginger nurse. Harry Osborn was a monster; he'd killed a girl for Christ sake!

There was a knock on the cell door before an additional three guards entered.

"'Bout bloody time lads!"

"Sorry Big C! We had a small issue in East wing; that reptile doctor freak was kicking off again..." explained one of the new guards.

"What's wrong with Mr. Osborn?"

"That's HARRY Osborn you _idiot_!" shouted the Goblin incoherently – he was still having problems understanding why these people were in his room. His sleeping pills were one hell of sedative.

"Right lads, 'e's awake!" Colin chuckled, "Good. I want 'im to feel every bit o' this!"

The Goblin tried to stand but he swayed dangerously when he left the bed – he was in no position to defend himself from these thugs. This wasn't going to be fun, he thought before the world went black and the guards descended.

* * *

Other than their topics of conversation, his therapy sessions with Hayley had now become part of his daily routine, along with nightly medication from Cheryl. However, his days were extremely boring, leading the Goblin to start observing Hayley obsessively. She was a delightful enigma and easy on the eyes.

He had noticed that she tended to wear the same thing everyday; either a long-sleeved shirt or buttoned top teamed with suit trousers that appeared a few sizes too big. Her nurse's white lab coat was also too large often drowning her tiny frame. It was clear she was uncomfortable with her body, and since the Goblin knew she was scarred, it was clear that Hayley wanted to hide away from the world. She wore little colour, mainly navy, black and grey; if her hair wasn't so bright she would blend into the walls of Ravencroft. The Goblin recognized she was someone who definitely wanted to go unnoticed. She didn't seem to possess any jewellery either, a shame for a girl so beautiful to not to wear stones or jewels of equal beauty. He could see her in a long evening gown decorated with emerald jewels. Yes, green would look stunning against her pale skin.

"_Green would look gorgeous on her…" _Harry agreed, thinking how before his transformation green had been his favorite color.

"Weak sentimental fool!" the Goblin chastised, "Though, imagine when we do get our hands on her, she'll be wrapped in our greenness then."

"_Now we're talking! She's different from those models, nowhere near as bland and exhausting - she's not complicated."_

"She's interesting, very interesting."

"Talking to yourself again Goblin?" Hayley asked casually as she hurriedly entered his cell.

Sitting on her usual chair, she noticed that Harry wasn't chained and seated like normal. Instead he was resting on his bed, still cuffed, but covered in bruises. Hayley sucked in her breath sharply, horrified at his swollen face, how shades of blue and purple decorated his neck and bulbous eye. The Goblin's lip was split with dried blood covering his orange jumpsuit. She could tell by the way he was lying that he was suffering from abdominal pain; Harry Osborn looked an absolute mess.

Before she knew what she was doing, Hayley dropped her notebook and files, running forward to kneel beside her injured patient. Being close up and at eye level she could see that the wounds were recent – were they self-inflicted? He had been talking to himself before; maybe it was part of his psychosis? What if his schizophrenic tendencies where worse than she'd previously thought?

The Goblin looked slightly taken aback at Hayley's instantaneous reaction to his condition; she was looking at him as if he were half dead! He didn't look that bad did he? Not that he cared. That brute Colin could do all he wanted because as soon as the Goblin was free he would kill everyone in this wretched place. Except for Ginge. She was too fascinating to kill. He refused to stay away from her especially since she was now initiating contact with him.

He glanced at her and could see her hands were raised as if she wanted to touch him.

_Strange, why would she want to do that_? he thought.

The Goblin closed his eyes and tried to shift away, wanting to see her true intent.

"Please, don't. Please, let me look at you," Hayley whispered anxiously.

Silently, the Goblin opened his eyes, still a little uncertain as to what her game was. She was staring at him with a worried expression almost like she cared.

_She's a nurse,_ the Goblin thought, _of course she cares, platonically._

He looked at her kneeling beside him and realised sitting up would aid her inspection. The Goblin tried to conceal the true extent of his pain. However he hissed and clutched at his side as he carefully moved his legs over the edge of the bed. Glaring at her, he dared Hayley to say something belittling or comment on the weakness he was displaying.

And yet she did no such thing.

Cautiously, Hayley reached her hands towards the myriad of bruises covering his face. The Goblin bared his teeth and raised an eyebrow, daring his little nurse to continue; he couldn't quite believe she was going to touch him of her own free will.

Hayley snorted at his behavior. She understood that even in his weakened state, the Goblin still wanted to convey strength and power. Hayley could tell that he feared rejection, a symptom from his father's lack of love, so instead of being put off by his standoffish actions, she continued.

When her soft palm tentatively held the side of his face, the Goblin breathed in deeply, closing his eyes. _This has to be a dream,_ he repeated in his head, _this isn't real. _

But upon feeling her other hand touch the sensitive skin near his black eye, he opened them, wanting visual confirmation of reality. He watched as Hayley's gaze flickered over his face inspecting the many cuts and bruises. She was assessing their severity; his eye needed ice and the cuts required cleaning and dressing.

Hayley's fingers traced his jawbone down to the Goblin's cut lip.

"Don't bite my fingers this time, okay?" she breathed.

He smirked at her words but kept silent whilst the tips of her fingers gently warmed his bottom lip with their scrutiny. The Goblin just couldn't help himself. Quickly, he darted out his tongue to taste those delicious digits. Hayley snorted again, shaking her head exasperatedly but not outwardly voicing any bother at his actions.

Next, she tenderly moved her hands to feel his neck where angry red welts blemished his already abnormal skin. It looked as if he'd been choked. The Goblin noticed the bandage still wrapped around her left hand were he'd broken her fingers. He felt a minute twinge of guilt, but instantly put it down to Harry's weak conscious infecting his mind again.

"I need to look at your side," Hayley stated nervously, removing her hands from him.

He looked at her as if she was speaking a foreign language – she could not be serious.

"Your side Goblin. Now, please," she tried once more with a bit more authority.

Christ. She was serious.

Once more, the Goblin decided to let her little game run its course, eager to see how far she'd take this. Instead of helping her, he decided that if she wanted to check his abdomen so much, then she'd have to do it herself. So the Goblin just sat still waiting on her actions. He heard Hayley muttering under her breath about how absurd he was being. It was terribly funny watching her hands fumble nervously as she began to undo the press-stud placket of his Ravencroft regulation jumpsuit; there were eight metal poppers in total before it turned into the trousers half. He noticed how Hayley only undid six before reaching to lift the hem of his white t-shirt worn underneath.

The coolness of her palm gracing his skin made the hairs on the back of his neck stand erect. He'd never known such tenderness, such kindness and understanding from a woman before. Sure Harry had slept with many girls, but that was for fun, just a good fix to pass the time as he drowned himself in alcohol. Never had a woman affected him this much. It was like she actually cared about him. No one had ever cared about him and his well-being. Of course there was Peter, but look how that turned out! Peter had made him into this monster because he didn't care if Harry lived or died. All Peter ever cared about was himself. And here was Ginge, such a fragile creature, treating him like he wasn't a monster, like he was special. She was special.

The Goblin almost didn't hear her small voice, too stuck in his own thoughts of how hungry for life she made him feel.

"How did this happen Goblin? Who did this to you?" Hayley questioned, scared of what the truth might mean.

He kept quiet, instead, staring into her worried green eyes intensely; he wasn't going to rat out Colin just yet, where was the fun in that?

Hayley gently lifted her hands from the Goblin's side, standing up before him, the moment over. "I'll be back with a First Aid kit..."

"As if _you _care," the Goblin bit out harshly. He cursed himself internally, damning his quick mouth for being brash when she had displayed such kindness.

If his words hurt her, he couldn't tell, for the ginger beauty walked calmly to his cell door. Before she left, Hayley turned; "You know I do."

* * *

Back at the Nurse's station, Hayley collected the First Aid kit above her desk, along with extra bandages and a small ice pack from the medical fridge. Luckily no one was around, so she was able to slip a few painkillers into her pocket. She knew there'd be endless questions, the possibility of an investigation or even more physical restraints used on the Goblin if anyone discovered this incident.

As much has Hayley wanted to know and understand how this abuse had happened, she also had to think about what was best for her patient above all else; an investigation could lead to her work with Harry being compromised and her position revoked again as his nurse and acting psychiatrist. That was an option she couldn't bare. Any other doctor would just leave him, thinking the monster deserved it whether it was self-inflicted or not. If the Goblin were further restrained or permanently in a straitjacket and padded cell, then his behavior would deteriorate with no hope for recovery. Plus Doctor Scott would take advantage of a possible schizophrenia diagnosis and probably experiment harshly on Harry. No, Hayley would have to treat her patient's psychosis and physical wounds secretly. Her work would have to be off the books.

As she rushed along the deserted corridors clutching at her medicinal objects, Hayley continued to think on why she was so determined to help Harry Osborn. Surely, as Gwen's murderer, the Goblin's recovery should be the least of Hayley's priorities. If she hadn't seen the security camera footage revealing Harry's desperation and painful transformation, then maybe she wouldn't be so quick to fulfill her Hippocratic oath so passionately. But having spent just over a year at Ravencroft, seeing corrupted doctors abuse their position, the incarcerated show no sign of rehabilitation, Hayley strived to be the most professional nurse in the facility. Besides, she could relate to aspects of Harry's experience. She may not fully understand his mind just yet, but Hayley couldn't deny that she found him fascinating. It was almost like seeing her past self before her; a damaged, unloved, unwanted broken monster. She'd be failing herself if she didn't try to help him.

When she reached Room 136, Hayley was glad to see that Colin was still on his coffee break. She was dreading trying to explain herself to him. The guard had seemed a bit distant this morning, making himself scarce soon after she arrived. There were no jokes or friendly comments just the cold shoulder treatment. Hayley suspected he was still miffed that she'd been given Harry back as a patient. And as much as she could understand Colin's over protective nature, Hayley wished he had more faith in her.

Grandma Carmichael was the only person who had believed in her abilities as an academic and a nurse.

After her parent's had died and her Grandma was awarded custody, Hayley was homeschooled due to being bullied and ostracized by her friends at the local school. Little Hayley was also experiencing PTSD and psychological trauma. After receiving counseling, Hayley become interested in psychology and human behavior; Grandma Carmichael indulged the child, hoping the attentiveness would allow Hayley some catharsis in her own issues. Hayley was a very smart child and had skipped a couple grades when she was in preschool. Now that she was homeschooled, Hayley began to excel in science and English, taking the majority of her High school exams early.

At the age of sixteen, she was sent to England and gained her qualifications as a nurse and a psychiatrist. When Hayley returned to New York three years later she become the youngest nurse to ever be hired at Ravencroft. Even with her psychiatry degree Hayley had only been employed as a nurse until three months before Harry's arrival, when Doctor Scott started to abuse her duel medical license. He had her treat patient's as a psychiatrist but did not employ her as such or up her wage. Hayley only wanted to help the inmates who suffered at the tyrannous hands of Doctor Scott, and she was too afraid of him to dispute her employment title. And even though she now had her own patients, the other doctor's _still_ questioned her abilities because of her shy and humble nature.

_I'll show_ _them,_ Hayley thought, _I'll show them all._

Opening the heavy metal door and juggling her medical supplies, Hayley gracelessly entered Harry's room once more. He was in the same position she had left him, sitting on the edge of his bed, now with his eyes closed. As she walked closer to him, the Goblin opened his eyes to observe her placing bandages and rubbing alcohol on the floor by his feet. Hayley kneeled down beside him again and began putting disinfecting gel on her hands. Once Hayley was happy that her hands were clean, minus her two dressed fingers, she took the painkillers from her pocket. She wordlessly placed two pills into the Goblin's cuffed palms and waited for him to place it in his mouth before passing him bottled water.

"Not going to feed them to me this time?" the Goblin purred after swallowing down the tablets.

"I don't trust your mouth with my fingers…" Hayley said, blushing slightly at how inappropriate their conversation sounded.

The Goblin smirked at her before handing back the water bottle. Their fingers brushed slightly which only caused Hayley's signature heat rash to brighten on her chest. He gently caressed his nurse's two injured fingers.

"Poor, poor Ginge."

"Poor me? Have you seen yourself today?"

"Have _you _seen yourself?" the Goblin rumbled deeply, removing his hand from hers to run his clawed fingers through a small tendril of her auburn hair.

The tension between the two was beginning to build again. He always seemed to be touching her. Maybe the constant contact was a sign of the human in him seeking comfort. Or maybe the Goblin was extremely possessive – either way it made Hayley feel uncomfortable, although she couldn't deny that her heart skipped faster with his affections.

Slowly taking his hand away from her hair, Hayley held both his hands once again, looking into his eyes pleadingly. "Please let me treat your wounds Goblin," she whispered.

With a roll of his piercing eyes and a huge sigh the Goblin gave in and allowed her to clean the blood from his face. He continued to sit quietly, still as possible but all the while stealing quick glances at her face. Fortunately for Hayley, the Goblin's wounds were only shallow and did not require stitches. All that was needed was just a quick wash with sterile alcohol and a few plasters. Hayley completed her task quickly but methodically before focusing on his bruised side.

"There isn't much I can do about your eye other than ice it, the swelling should go down in a couple of days. The painkillers will help," she told him honestly.

Hayley was slightly dreading having to inspect his side again; she was going to have to touch him more intimately, press around the area to assess any permanent damage to the bones underneath. Ideally, an X-ray would be necessary, however Hayley knew that to suggest it to the doctors or Harry would be futile.

"Would you mind lifting your shirt? I need to look at your side again."

"Tut, if you must," the Goblin replied nonchalantly, feigning indifference when in fact he couldn't wait to feel her touch again… "OW!" He quickly grabbed her hands squeezing them in anger. "Don't test my patience _Ginge_!"

"What if you've broken a rib?"

"I'm _fine_."

"I only want what's best for you… as, er, as your nurse, of course," she spoke hurriedly.

Catching his glaring eyes, Hayley engaged in another staring contest, a battle of wills. Would he give in and let her do her job? Or was he too stubborn to show any weakness?

"Of course." Releasing her hands, the Goblin pulled his shirt down.

Obviously Hayley wasn't going to win this one. She was surprised however when he reached down to her feet and grabbed the small ice pack she had brought. Giving her look that simply said 'Don't push it', Hayley returned to her seat while the Goblin placed the cold compress underneath his shirt.

"I don't want to tire you out, but do you think you'd be up for a colour word association exercise?" Hayley didn't want to push him, especially after his ordeal, but this was a therapy session and they had yet to talk properly.

With a small nod of approval from him, Hayley began to go down the list of colours she had written in her notebook;

"Purple?"

"Bruise," he said with a small smile.

"Grey?"

"Ravencroft."

"Black?"

"Coffee." He chuckled lightly as Hayley made a disgusted face at his preferred choice of beverage.

"White?"

"_Innocence_," came a smooth voice, very different from the Goblin's distinctive deep rumbling tone.

Hayley tried not to give a reaction to the voice change. "Yellow?"

"_Blondes_." When Hayley looked at him questioningly, he continued, "_They're so_ _exhausting."_

She smiled to herself, noting down that the old Harry seemed to be easing through the cracks.

"They're heavy too," the Goblin grinned wickedly, causing Hayley's own smile to vanish when she realized he was referring to Gwen. Perhaps Harry wasn't coming back just yet.

"Blue?"

"Electricity."

"Green?"

"Monster."

_Obviously referring to himself, _Hayley thought, _slightly predictable but understandable. _

"Red?"

"Spider-Man!" he said with venom.

She hadn't considered the masked hero as an option; normally patients chose love or blood, or her own personal choice, fire. The Goblin seemed to have a few issues with the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. Maybe he was experience PTSD from their fight. That could be one possibility of how the Goblin had become injured; violent night terrors induced by PTSD. Writing down her thoughts, Hayley continued with the last color association word.

"Orange?"

"_You_."

"Me?" Hayley squeaked in surprise.

"Well, I don't see anyone else in my room with orange hair, do you? _Hmmm_?"

She was blushing again; Hayley could feel the heat radiating from her chest and had noticed the Goblin staring at her hungrily. He really needed to stop paying her compliments because it was starting to interfere with their professional relationship, well what was left of it anyway. Maybe it was just the smooth and suave Harry Osborn breaking through. Since Hayley had never known his personality before the Goblin transformation had altered him, she couldn't be sure that all the compliments weren't his playboy inclinations resurfacing. She'd have to try and ignore his comments for now, ignore the way the butterflies in her stomach fluttered when he spoke, and ignore how when he looked at her, she felt like she wasn't alone anymore.

"Don't space out on me Ginge; it's just you and _me_." Licking his lips the Goblin continued to stare at her, "So did I pass your little colour exam?"

"I, er, it wasn't really a test."

"_Or did you just want to know my preference_?"

"What preference?" Now Hayley was really confused.

"_Well, you already know I find blondes exhausting, and if you'd said brown, you'd know I find them boring. That only leaves you," _Harry remarked smoothly.

"I'm sorry, that leaves me what?"

The Goblin looked at her like she was stupid. "Leaves you – a ginger. Redheads are so rare, especially copper colour like yours_… _that means _you _are _special."_

"You're green, so I think that makes you pretty special too," Hayley joked, trying to lighten the mood and divert the conversation off her.

He smiled, noticing how his flirting was making her nervous. "I guess it does make me special. _Very_ special indeed."

* * *

Hayley entered her apartment, exhausted. She'd taken a short detour after work to visit Gwen and had put fresh pink hydrangeas on her grave. Pink wasn't Gwen or Hayley's favorite colour but they'd always joked how their My Little Pony toys were the exact opposite of their personalities; Hayley loved black and Gwen had adored blue, their pony toys however were powder pink and cream. They'd been giving each other pink hued flowers and girly joke presents ever since.

She was about to close her front door when her landlord, Mr. Boothroyd, coughed to catch her attention. Her landlord was in his late fifties and had always been kind to her, even before her Grandma had died. However, he rarely left the basement of the apartment block in which he lived, so to see him probably meant she was in trouble.

"Hi Mr. Boothroyd," Hayley smiled pleasantly, "Haven't seen you in a while, how have you been?"

"Hayley dear, I've come about the rent."

Mr. Boothroyd was not one for small talk, always direct and to the point, which was one of the reasons Hayley liked him so much. She had been dreading seeing him since the month's end, knowing that her latest rent cheque would most likely bounce. Being two months late was unforgivable and Mr. Boothroyd would only tolerate one month of no pay.

"Oh, has the money not gone in?" she shifted nervously trying to play dumb to the problem at hand.

"It hasn't love. I'm sorry but I have bills to pay too."

"I know, but I've got a meeting tomorrow at work," Hayley lied, "I've been promoted since I'm now working with a high priority patient, so, my pay will increase."

Mr Boothroyd nodded, oblivious to her lies. He cared about the young girl and only wanted her to succeed in her line of work – she deserved a happy life.

"Would I be able to pay you in two weeks? The extra pay will be through then," said Hayley, feeling relieved when her landlord nodded and began to walk away from her apartment.

Quickly shutting the door behind her, Hayley leaned against it, sinking down to the floor. She tried not to cry but could feel tears prickling in her eyes. When they threatened to spill down her cheeks, Hayley rubbed away the tears, wishing desperately that the lie she'd told Mr. Boothroyd could be true.

She'd always been poor. Even though her Grandma had used her own savings to send Hayley to England for education, they'd always struggled for money. It was worse now that she had to pay her own bills and rent. It was at times like this that Hayley craved to be rich like Harry Osborn; money was necessary for survival and not to be taken for granted like the playboy millionaire did.

Sobbing into her hands, Hayley could no longer contain her fear and worries about the future. She crawled towards her handbag that she'd dropped on the floor. Slipping her hand inside, Hayley removed a box of pills, popping three into her mouth, more than the recommended dose. She only wanted to the numb the pain for a little while - she wasn't a suicidal person. After taking a few sips from the water bottle in her bag, Hayley moved to lie on the sofa, hoping that in a drug induced sleep, she would be able to find peace.

* * *

**Sorry I haven't updated in a week; I really wanted this chapter to be extra long. I also just moved back home from University so it's been a busy time. **

**Not too sure if I've ever established Hayley's age: she is 21 and Harry is 20 like in the film. **

**I love you all my beautiful readers and reviewers! I literally go fangirl hysterical when I get a message on my dashboard! **


	9. Chapter 9

**I do not own Marvel and Spider-Man or any of the characters in the franchise – just my OC.**

* * *

She was alone in the Nurse's station after one of her sessions with the Goblin. Another week had passed, almost too quickly for Hayley's liking. Therapy with Harry was going well; she'd been sneaking him pain medication secretly in their sessions as well as an anti-psychotic drug, Quetiapine. Along with the sleeping pills, the Goblin's anger and mood swings were subsiding – even his skin was noticeably less green! She hadn't told Harry that he was taking schizophrenia medication because she was certain that he would refuse their consumption. As it was, Hayley was constantly on edge, scared that the other doctors would discover the missing medication if they did an inventory check. It was fortunate that this month Cadence had asked Hayley to do the check allowing her to effectively forge the stock amounts. Normally there would be two nurses checking the medication inventory every month, but Ravencroft was so short staffed that all usual and professional protocol was thrown out the window.

Hayley had never approved of stealing, and having to steal prescription drugs of all things was extremely risky. She could loose her medical license if she were ever discovered. The risk was almost too great. And yet, seeing Harry respond so well to the course of medication, made it worth it. It was like Hayley's ability as a nurse and psychiatrist was being validated with his improved condition. Of course, Doctor Scott was seething, even furious that Harry Osborn was being humanized with something as simple, to his knowledge, as sleeping pills and behavioural therapy. There was no doubt in Hayley's mind that the doctor had thought up some tortuous treatment for him. If she could keep Harry from that then she was doing her job.

Reflecting on their previous sessions, Hayley was extremely happy how the Goblin was beginning to retreat and Harry was breaking through more and more. They were able to have involved and coherent conversations with his bipolar personality more under control. The Quetiapine medication restored the balance of neurotransmitters in the brain keeping his mania and psychosis to a minimum. Quetiapine also decreased hallucinations in prescribed patients; Harry hadn't had any night terrors or suffered more unexplained injuries since she'd been giving him the pills. Another aspect that made Hayley cheerful was how Harry's skin was no longer scaly and the green tinge was slowly fading. Sure he still had long fingernails and lesion like wounds where his skin pigmentation was darker, but after being in Ravencroft for just over two months, Harry Osborn was fairing well.

However, Hayley couldn't forget the moment when she'd questioned him about Peter Parker. He had become so angry, in a split second, like a switch and been flicked in his brain. It was strange considering they were meant to be friends; they'd known each other since childhood like she and Gwen. But if Gwen's death was anything to go by, Harry clearly did have an issue with Parker. Why else would he murder his best friend's girlfriend? It was a conversation they had yet to have in therapy and one that Hayley was truly dreading. She would have to shut away the part of herself who loved Gwen in order to not start screaming at the Goblin when she finally knew the truth; why did Gwen have to die?

During that same conversation Harry had also become a darker shade of green with his veins pulsing wildly. Hayley noticed that it often happened during his mood swings or when he was extremely angry. This led to her theory that like many other medical conditions, the Goblin-like symptoms were exacerbated by stress. The condition he'd inherited from his father, the Osborn curse, was one shrouded in great mystery. Only Norman Osborn, his personal physicians and OsCorp knew the true extent and severity of Retroviral Hyperplasia. Hayley did not have access to any files that might aid her treatment of Harry in regards to his illness. She was only trained as a nurse and a psychiatrist, and did not fully understand or have the medical knowledge to combat such an unknown and aggressive disease. Doctor Scott and his team were still in the process of analysing Harry's blood sample. If they had already discovered something then Hayley knew she would be the last to know.

Frustrated with theories and having no concrete medical data, Hayley slammed closed her notebook and threw a pen at her keyboard. She was feeling restless and began to swing around on her swivel desk chair. It didn't really matter if anyone discovered her acting like an idiot because if Ravencroft didn't make you loose your nut then nothing would. There was something so freeing about spinning in her chair.

Her solitude was short lived when Cheryl and another new blonde nurse, Becca, entered the room gossiping about nonsense. Hayley didn't like the new girls; they basically ignored her, followed Doctor Scott around like he was god, and were always flirting with the guards. They reminded her of some High School girls she saw when meeting Gwen on a free period.

The two girls were sitting near Hayley with their backs to her, chewing bubble gum and admiring each other's fake nails. The whole scene made Hayley want to gag because they were so nauseatingly stereotypical.

"Haley is it?" Cheryl asked suddenly, popping another bubble of gum absentmindedly.

_God that sound was so grating on the ears,_ Hayley thought.

"It's Hayley."

"Yeah, well, that patient of yours, Mr. Osborn…"

"You mean Harry."

"You what?"

"Harry. He doesn't like being called Mr. Osborn," Hayley corrected before realising what she was doing.

"Whatever. _Harry,_ nearly ruined my new nails last week." Another pop of gum followed and Cheryl shoved her jewel manicured nails in front of Hayley – proof that he hadn't done anything but if he had, it would obviously be a horrific loss for the trashy girl.

Nodding, Hayley sighed, not having time for stupid insignificant problems like damaged nails. "Ok. And _what_ exactly did my patient do?"

More bursting bubble gum snaps and hair flipping followed.

"He _threatened_ to break my fingers!" Cheryl replied with attitude while Becca stroked the vulnerable hand in question to emphasize the apparent danger.

_Clearly ruined nails were more perilous than broken bones_, Hayley thought sarcastically.

Showing the two blonde twits her still bandaged broken fingers, Hayley tried to reprimand them for not telling her earlier, "I take threats from my patient very seriously. Why am I only hearing about this now? You should have written an incident report and told me the next day!"

"It's not like he actually did it! God Haley chill!"

"I reckon he fancies you hun," Becca laughed, nudging the other girl – the whole situation was obviously just one big laugh for them. "He was gorgeous before he went psycho! And a billionaire too!"

"I know right? But no, _apparently _my hands aren't 'worthy' or some nonsense," Cheryl scoffed.

"Oh my god as if he said that! You were a hand model for Yves Saint Laurent!"

"I know Becca! Clearly, he doesn't recognise true beauty when he sees it."

The whole conversation was really giving Hayley a headache. She honestly couldn't stand being around such vapid false people. Picking up her notebook and handbag, Hayley decided to go find Colin or maybe get a sandwich from the canteen. Anything to get away from Tweedledum and Tweedledee.

"Obviously Haley is _worthy _of Harry Osborn's attentions!"

Hayley stopped in her tracks and looked down at her broken fingers. Glancing back, the peroxide twins were now whispering about her behind their hands. She must have had a dumbfounded look on her face because Becca continued on;

"Well, he broke your fingers didn't he? So you're worthy."

Continuing out the door without a word Hayley left the girls to their gossip. However, Becca's comment would make her think for sometime about how Harry viewed their relationship. What did 'worthy' mean to him?

"Worthy? Me? Yeah right," Hayley said to herself uneasily, suddenly not feeling very hungry anymore.

* * *

"Your hair's changed!"

"_Hmmmm? Oh you noticed?"_

It was the morning after her conversation with dumb and dumber, and Hayley was feeling tired but determined to make some progress in her session with Harry today. She'd noticed a change in his appearance as soon as she entered his cell, only truly seeing it when sitting down on her usual chair opposite him.

The Goblin's hair was no longer pushed back in a spikey shape mimicking the dome of his head. He must of used water from the sink in his room to brush his hair into resembling his old sophisticated style. Hayley had only ever seen Harry look like this in newspaper images; it suited him having a side parting and a long sweeping fringe. He looked more human, more like his former self. She'd hate to admit it but having his pretty boy fringe back made the butterflies in her stomach start flapping like crazy.

"Well, you can barely see behind that fringe," Hayley smirked, as Harry flipped his bangs expertly so he could now look directly at her – it clearly took skill to toss it in such a casual fashion.

He had definitely practiced it all his life, Hayley was sure of it. She then started to giggle as his fringe played truant and flopped back to cover his blue eyes – it was nice to see Harry starting to become more dominant, even though his outward appearance was only just starting to improve and was not completely normal yet.

"_Maybe it does need a cut,"_ he said idly, flicking the long hairs with his still claw like fingers. Harry then eyed Hayley and made a cutting motion with his fingers.

"Hey don't look at me! I'm sure that haircut cost over $100, and a millionaire like yourself…"

"_It's billionaire."_

"I'm sorry?" she asked feeling confused.

"_My father become a billionaire when I was ten."_

_Jeez,_ Hayley thought, _at ten I was dirt poor with no family or possessions, and the Osborn name was worth a billion dollars… clearly I was born into the wrong family. _

"Well, I'm sure a _billionaire_ like you would not want me playing Sweeny of money, what was it like growing up in such luxury?"

"_Luxurious." _

"Come on, I'm being serious."

"I had everything I ever wanted or could ever possibly want," the Goblin said bitterly.

Hayley noticed how his voice seemed to deepen and his eyes narrowed upon recollection. Clearly this was a sore subject and Harry had retreated to protect himself from a painful memory.

"Material items, correct?"

He gave a small nod in response.

"I'm sure that was not what you truly wanted, Harry. I mean, at the time, it probably was but children with parental issues can sometimes become materialistic, especially those of wealth. They seek any type of love or attention, even if it is a simple thing like being bought toys," she spoke kindly, hoping that a calm and friendly voice would make her assessment of him a little bit easier to swallow.

Though the way he was dangerously staring at her told Hayley that the Goblin was starting to get pissed off.

However, she continued on, holding her ground against a possible and imminent mood swing episode. "Though during adolescence the rebellious nature kicks in. Was that around the time you developed an alcohol addiction and abused Oxycodone?"

Hayley had read now unsealed files on how Norman Osborn sent his son to a total of three rehabilitation clinics within a year. They were all very expensive places with a strict confidentiality policy. To her knowledge the media had never reported on his addiction or rehab visits, only that Harry was a party animal, which was to be expected from a teenage _billionaire_.

When she received no verbal response and a blank stare, Hayley tried to engage him in the conversation. "I know you might not have anything to say Goblin, but maybe Harry does?" Hayley asked hopefully.

Even though the bipolar episodes were becoming less and less, releasing Harry from the monster's hold, they were still happening during their time together. Hayley was finding it difficult to ever get a straight answer from Harry about his issues because the Goblin always intervened when he felt personally attacked. It was frustrating for a psychiatrist to be unable to work through, let alone discuss, deep seeded and obvious issues. If Hayley couldn't bring some closure or understanding for Harry, then his Goblin side would always be with him whether he was green or not. Even though his medical records pre transformation did not suggest or document any traces of schizophrenia, they did highlight his aggression and short temper. Hayley theorized that the formula injection must have heightened this personality aspect.

Hayley knew from what Gwen had told her about Doctor Connors' reptile metamorphosis the previous year that he too experienced personality changes. She'd even witnessed the man talking to himself during a psychosis episode when she visited the East wing once.

Harry was looking at her like she was stupid, again.

Leaning forward and clasping his hands together, the Goblin gave her a penetrating and deathly stare, "Are you suggesting that I have multiple personalities?"

"No. What I am saying is that during times of great trauma, one can internalize themselves, hiding their true self as a protective counter measure. Sometimes suppression…"

"And what do _I_ have to suppress?!" the Goblin snarled, standing from his bed in anger.

Provoking any beast was a bad idea, and a caged one was suicide, but Hayley would not be bullied into silence. Everyone had issues and the Goblin would have to let Harry work through them one way or another. Therefore she remained seated and tried not to show how her body was shaking from the adrenaline rush his sudden out burst had caused.

Hayley decided that maybe the truth might enlighten him; "I'm going to be truthful with you Goblin, but _only_ if you sit down." When he finally complied after what seemed like an internal battle of wills, Hayley continued, "I think that your Id is extremely dominant. Are you familiar with Freud's theory of the unconscious Id, Ego and Super-Ego? No? Well, the Id is described by Freud as pure chaos; a dark inaccessible part of our personality. Now, I think the venom you injected yourself with has made your Id accessible…"

"And you consider this a bad thing?" the Goblin asked curious of her response.

"It might be," she said nervously, "the Id is labeled as ones' negative contrast to our Ego - it knows no judgment or value: no good and evil, no morality…"

"Is this your diagnosis of me? Pure evil."

"You're not evil Harry, there is darkness is in all of us," she spoke truthfully, thinking about her own Id and the damage it had once done.

There came a knock from outside which was Colin signaling that the session was now over. Hayley sighed but felt quite positive about revealing how Harry fit into Freud's theory – maybe it would help him understand the deeper connotations of his transformation. She gave him a hopeful smile before gathering herself and walking towards the cell exit. Upon reaching the door, Hayley remembered her conversation with the peroxide tweedles yesterday and spun around to ask Harry one final question.

"What is your definition of worthy?"

He looked at her strangely, caught off guard by such a specific and odd query. Hayley began to feel nervous again when Harry stood and gracefully walked towards her. Although he was still cuffed at the hands and feet, after many many weeks at Ravencroft, he had learnt to adapt to his confines. Sometimes Hayley forgot they were even there.

Harry was now standing directly in front of her; he cut an imposing figure even though they were the same height. He was so close to Hayley that she could feel his breath on her cheek.

Cupping her small face, Harry stared into her green eyes, wanting her to focus on what he had to say. _"Being 'worthy' is something special that deserves my attention and appeals to my Ego…" _he whispered softly, stroking the skin of her porcelain face. She was trembling, he could feel it, but it did not deter his advances.

_She is so damn determined today, _Harry thought.

The way she would not back down, persisting with her theories and assessment of him – it was a refreshing change from all those bland models. Hell, it was sexy.

He licked his lips, desperately wanting to kiss the girl before him. What made Harry not act on his wants was being unsure of how she would respond. All their other interacts were him toying with the young nurse, seeing how far he could push her because he was bored. But he could no longer deny the attraction he felt towards the ginger girl – if he kissed her there was no turning back, and she could very easily reject him.

It was then that Hayley saw the gentleness of Harry disappear; he moved his grip to her hands, squeezing the broken fingers just enough to make her gasp in pain.

"To be worthy, you have to appeal to both my Ego _and _my Id!_"_ the Goblin stated darkly, making Hayley really hope she wasn't worthy.

* * *

**Oh my gosh you guys are amazing! Thank you to my lovely loyal review readers ****XLil MEkoX****, ****Castiel Angel Heart****, ****TreeKangaroo****, ****Spazaroni****,**** to my new readers/reviewers, and also to all my guests who I wish I could reply to!**

**And thank you for everyone who corrected the age issues I was having with Harry! I've only seen TASM2 at the cinema once so I'm going purely on memory and YouTube videos. Also guys, don't worry, Harry will be resurfacing, the Goblin won't be here forever, Harry is coming back like at the movies end - I'm trying to explore the five month period he was at Ravencroft **_**and **_**beyond that when he is back as Harry Osborn. **

**I hope my chopping and changing between the Goblin and Harry isn't too confusing and that I write it clearly so it reads well!**

**Also, face claim for Hayley is a model called Anastasia Ivanova**


	10. Chapter 10

**I do not own Marvel, Spider-Man, or any other characters associated with the franchise – just Hayley my OC.**

**NOTE: Ok, so now that Harry is becoming stronger and the Goblin weaker, I'm now assigning italics for when the Goblin speaks instead of Harry, because the Goblin is now becoming the inner voice. It'll become clearer below but I hope I don't confuse you all and you understand the change in font thing :D**

* * *

After the redhead had left, Harry sat down in front of his mirror, like he had numerous times before. What was different however was that he could finally see that the hideousness that plagued him was starting to disappear. Peter forcing his hand in using the serum had hopefully not done any long-term permanent damage. It was encouraging for Harry, he felt more confident, relieved that he no longer looked like a monster.

"_Confident? You? HA!" _mocked the Goblin.

"Look, if what Hayley said was true, then you and me are one and the same! We should be working together!"

"_Ginge has some extraordinary theories! Besides, you couldn't bring yourself to kiss her, coward!"_

"What, and have her never treat us again? We have to be more suave than that. Wooing a lady takes sophistication and tact, which _you_ know nothing about," Harry bit back, "Besides, you keep getting in the way."

"_Me? I do everything you can't do! Won't do!" _exclaimed the Goblin feeling irritated at Harry's sudden newfound certainty.

"Then why didn't _you_ kiss her? Exactly, you know I'm right!" Harry retorted, crossing his arms in triumph. "If we are _ever _going to have a chance with Hayley, and I mean a _real_ chance, then we can't stay in Ravencroft."

"_Go on…"_ The Goblin's interest sparked, curious now.

"We need to get our revenge on Spider-Man and we can't do it in this cell! If we are to ever get released from here then we have to appear as if we have been rehabilitated. They will never release the Goblin back into New York, but Harry Osborn, the rightful CEO of OsCorp, well, they just might."

"_The only way of escape is for Ginge to proclaim us sane, well, and rehabilitated, correct?"_ the Goblin questioned, slowly coming round to Harry's way of thinking.

"Exactly! As soon as we are free, we can make plans to eliminate Peter, take back control of OsCorp and find a cure to our curse!"

"_And then Ginge will be ours!"_

Smirking in agreement with his Id in the mirror, Harry nodded,"Then Hayley will be mine."

* * *

It was eight in the evening; Hayley had finally decided to do some grocery shopping with the little money she had, conscious that Mr Boothroyd's rent deadline was looming. Therefore the only objects she had in her shopping bags were three big bottles of Pepsi, twenty Pot Noodles and a rather withered looking bunch of grapes – her standard daily menu for the next two weeks. The other foods she had at home were Cornflakes and some limes; as a member of the medical community, Hayley knew that her eating habits were abnormal but hard times called for desperate measures! Its not like her wages could afford much more when there was double rent to pay, plus bills. Her bags seemed heavier than usual, maybe a subconscious reflection of the many issues weighing on her mind.

Either way, after walking a good mile from her local grocery store, Hayley was practically dragging the bags on the sidewalk; her spindly arms just couldn't take the load. She was stood outside her apartment block catching her breath underneath a lamppost. The thought of having to climb five flights was really not Hayley's idea of fun. Sighing, she leaned against the post trying to relax her body and conserve her strength. It was then that Hayley felt like she was being watched. The street was practically dead, bar a few taxis and unfriendly looking drunks. Considering her rent was so high, Hayley did live in quite a dodgy area of downtown Manhattan. Spider-Man made the citizens feel safe, even in these parts, but he hadn't been sighted for over two months. She felt uneasy, and when the drunks spotted her she practically ran to the apartment block entrance.

"Oomph!"

In her rush, Hayley had walked right into a tall man – she prayed it wasn't a smelly hobo! Her Pot Noodles went flying and the Pepsi bottles were well and truly fizzed up. Hayley swore loudly and rubbed her bruised bum when she stood up. The man was hurriedly picking up her dispersed shopping, stuffing the offending food into the plastic bags – she still had yet to see his face.

When he was done, the man picked up the bags, shuffled his feet awkwardly and scratched the back of his head.

"Er, hey, Hayley. Hi," Peter Parker spoke clumsily, "Sor…sorry about your shopping. Didn't see you there you know, your so, so small, never noticed that before." He shrugged and began lifting her shopping up and down pretending like he was working out.

Parker was so delightfully awkward that Hayley could see why Gwen had fallen for him.

"Well it's not like we've ever hung out properly," she muttered before noticing how Peter's face fell. "But, what I mean is, well, thanks. Thank you Peter," Hayley continued, motioning to her shopping he was still pumping animatedly.

He smiled quickly, a reassurance that her words didn't really affect him. They stood uncomfortably, looking at each other in wait for a cue on what to do next.

"I guess I better take my stuff upstairs..."

"Hey, well, you could, but, you know, I could do that," Peter said before racing inside the building.

"What? Parker, hey wait a minute!" Hayley barely saw him leave her side he was so quick like a ninja. She rushed in after him shouting, "It's like five flights of stairs you nut!"

"Only five? I'll race ya," he beamed and like a silly schoolboy, Peter leaped up the stairs taking two at a time.

All Hayley could think was how did someone have so much energy!

It took her a full ten minutes to finally catch up to him; Hayley was practically crawling up the last flight while Peter was sitting on the top step juggling three of her noddle pots.

"Fan of chicken huh?" he spoke in jest, raising his eyebrow before throwing one of the pots at her tired crumpled form, which was now resting on the steps below him.

"Yeah, they give me energy."

"Looks like you need it," laughed Peter as she gave him a sassy look, "You got that whole exhausted girl thing going on right now."

Hayley slowly got to her feet and began rustling about in her handbag for her apartment door keys. It was rather unfortunate in this moment that her favourite colour was black because the dark lining of her bag made it impossible to locate her belongings. In frustration she tipped it upside down watching for the keys to fall out along with her other belongings. She was so tired and forgot what her bag contained; a work notebook, various pens, small change, mascara, her iPod, the missing keys, stolen medication and Harry's case file.

She froze when Peter picked up her pills. Her worst fears were coming true; she'd been caught!

Rattling the two medication strips, Peter looked at the names and then to Hayley inquisitively. "These are, wow, Amitriptyline and Quetiapine, that's some pretty heavy stuff here Carmichael!"

Wincing at the use of her surname, she tried to play the situation cool, "Ha ha yes um they are but they're not for me! No! I found them. I mean, one of the new nurses was stealing them and I caught her, must of forgot to put them back." Hayley laughed before snatching them back and stuffing everything but her keys into her bag, "Silly me!"

Hastily, Hayley unlocked the door and entered her apartment, leaving Peter to follow in with the shopping. She felt a little embarrassed to have him see her home; no one had ever visited her before.

The place was a bit messy and sparse of any comfort or personal belongings, apart from a small selection of books and a frame with Grandma Carmichael's image. Her flat only had a small kitchenette and was open plan, leading into the living room that held a ratty sofa, standard television and a bookshelf. Then there were three doors, two with actual doors that led to the bathroom and her Grandma's old bedroom. The room without a door and just an empty frame was hers, and it only had a bed, chest of draws and a clothing rack. It was surprising how finally letting someone into her world made Hayley realise how poor she truly was.

However after having a quick glance around, Peter didn't seem phased and proceeded to dump the groceries on the kitchen counter. He eyed the bin over following with noddle pots and chuckled slightly at her strange food addiction. They both then stood staring at each other wondering what to do next. Peter slowly started to unpack the food, looking like he had something to say but was too nervous to speak.

"So how's work? How's, how is _he_," asked Peter casually not quite meeting her gaze, avoiding the use of his former friends name, a fact that did not go unnoticed by Hayley. She also detected a hint of acidity that really didn't sound right coming from Peter's mouth.

"I'm sorry Parker but I can't discuss my patients with you."

"How, how can you even be treating him? Gwen is dead because of him!" he said suddenly whilst ferociously popping grapes into his mouth and munching on them like candy, "Isn't it like a conflict of interest? Hayley, he is trouble."

"Conflict of…maybe. Well, it's not like I have a choice here Peter. He chose me! He's killed people because they wouldn't let me be his nurse. I'm responsible for his well being as a psychiatrist, I don't have a choice…"

"No! No, no don't you bullsh… I mean, argh, Mother Hubbard! This is bloody ridiculous!"

"Peter look, I know this must be upsetting…"

"No! Don't tell me… don't psychoanalyse me!" By this point Peter was pacing in anger and shouting, "Are _you_ not upset? You talk as if you don't _care_ that she's DEAD! You see him everyday and you say I'm upset? How are you not a sobbing mess?"

"Maybe I am Parker, maybe I fucking am! Ok? Is that what you want to hear? Do you want to know how I cry myself to sleep every night? How my whole life now revolves around a murderer!" she fought back, finally revealing her true feelings, "Jeez, I even have nightmares about him!"

"Do you hear yourself? How about you just don't treat him!"

"God dammit Peter! I can't! He needs me…" Hayley made a grab for a Pepsi bottle and furiously turned the cap.

The carbonated liquid inside exploded in her face, drenching her in three seconds. She threw the bottle away from her in shock, accidently aiming it at Peter in her hast, who caught it with skill but still managed to get wet. Both were breathing heavily from the Pepsi outburst and staring at each other's damp and sticky form. It was Hayley who giggled first.

"You look like a drowned rat!" she laughed, shaking her hands to try and rid herself of excess liquid.

Peter cracked an infectious smile, making Hayley beam when he waved his head around like a dog trying to get dry.

"Hey, I find that insulting to rats! Besides, I'm much better looking," he joked whilst backing away towards the front door.

Hayley followed him with her eyes, sensing that their time together was up.

When he opened the door, Peter looked back, fixing her with a serious expression. "Carmichael, I get that you're his nurse and everything, but remember, you were Gwen's friend before he ever became your patient."

And with his piece said, Peter gave her a small smile and left.

* * *

Peter Parker had been gone about an hour and all Hayley had done was clean up the Pepsi mess and have a very long cold shower. All the while thinking about what he had said. Parker was right of course she knew he was. Harry represented a patient that she had every right to hate; he had murdered her friend and ruined many lives when he released Electro from Ravencroft.

But what she had told Peter was true. Hayley did cry every night, she cried her herself to sleep. The night was the only time when Hayley let herself truly feel, to think about everything, to remember that Gwen was gone and that Harry was responsible. It killed her inside having to treat him because every time she entered Room 136, Hayley felt like she was betraying Gwen.

The only reason that Hayley believed that treating him was the right thing to do, was the memory of her old professor telling her what type of therapist she was. Apparently, Hayley was a rare breed of shrink – she didn't analyse a patient and detach herself from the discussed issues. No, she was a psychiatrist who could empathise with her patients, preferring to identify with them to better aid her assessment and treatment techniques. Hayley got a buzz from connecting with patients; it reminded her that she was not alone in this fucked up world and that other people were as messed up as she. Helping people made her feel better, because no one had helped her when she was a child. Being alone in your psychosis was destructive and dangerous, and even though she knew Harry was a monster, weren't there monsters in all of us?

She desperately wanted to remain passive with him and be cold and distant in their sessions. However it never seemed to happen, because Hayley had never met anyone more like herself. Minus the whole murder thing. Harry had chosen her for a reason. The way he touched her, appeared to need her, rely on her, it was amazing; Hayley had never felt wanted before. In their previous session when he had held her face so tenderly it felt like he cared about her. Their bodies had been so close that Hayley thought he was going to kiss her. Harry had this look in his eye like he was really and truly seeing her. The thing that scared her the most about that moment, was not when the Goblin broke through, but that she wanted him to kiss her.

The professional inside her was screaming how wrong that was. Except Hayley could no longer ignore the butterflies inside her and how often she experienced heat rash around him. Harry was captivating and as much as she hated to admit it, he _was_ attractive. Even though he was still a bit green and had claw fingernails, the addition of his pretty boy fringe made him look semi normal again. She could almost see the Harry Osborn from all the newspaper articles. And to think that someone like that might find her "worthy" was just mind blowing!

Rubbing her forehead, Hayley could feel a headache coming on from all her conflicting thoughts. Currently, she was sat cross-legged on her bed with her laptop on and notebook open doing some research. She was getting increasingly annoyed at the lack of information she had about the Osborn family curse of Retroviral Hyperplasia. And its not like Doctor Scott was forth coming with any useful information. There was hardly anything written about the disease on the Internet and all the files about it on the OsCorp intranet were, of course, classified.

Hayley had jotted down a few things but would have to ask Harry to fill in the blanks. All she had discovered in the past thirty minutes was that the disease was hereditary; it was degenerative and attacked the cells mutating them. Hyperplasia simply meant 'the growth of tumors' - this explained Harry's skin discoloration and growth of painful sores. Other than that, the disease was fatal as had been the case for Norman Osborn. Hayley couldn't find much else. She knew from its name, Retroviral, that in the nucleolus of the cell, RNA was the culprit virus for it stored its own genetic information and inserted a copy of its genome into the host in order to replicate. One of the most well known retroviruses was HIV.

Hayley thought she was loosing her mind when she found herself clicking on an article about skin lesions in sexually mature fish. Apparently, a virus called Walleye epidermal hyperplasia infected the North American Walleye fish when they reach adulthood, though signs could be spotted during adolescence. It caused skin lesions and was released by water particles harboring the disease, as well as coming in close contact with other fish. What interested Hayley the most about the fish virus was the theories behind why flare-ups occurred during the summer months; there was something to do with low water temperatures and immune suppression that she didn't take much notice of. What _did_ interest Hayley was how the lesions grew worse when the fish were under psychological and physiological stress associated sexual reproduction.

"Interesting how the Osborn curse manifests during adolescence," Hayley theorized out loud, "Right when growth hormones and testosterone are in abundance, like when the Walleye's are sexually mature."

She then proceeded to look up all the varieties of skin lesions to better understand the ones that were appearing on Harry now that his all over green hue was subsiding. Of course, none of the images on the Internet came close to mirroring Harry's wounds. If anything, they reminded Hayley of her own angry scars. Her back was beginning to hurt now that she'd been sat hunched over at the laptop for over an hour. She carefully rubbed the base of her spine but stopped when she felt something strange. Hayley brought her hand up to her face and felt sick upon seeing thick red liquid on her fingertips.

Racing to the bathroom, Hayley ripped off her pajama top, flicked on the light and turned her back to the mirror. She desperately craned her neck trying to find the source of the blood. What Hayley saw made tears swell in both her emerald green eyes; along the vertebrae of her spine the skin was broken and bleeding. Her scars looked angry and irritated. In her mind, Hayley knew how the small wounds had been caused – stress. That, and her noddle addiction. Well, maybe not the food per say but the _lack_ of food. She was too thin for her height and Hayley hadn't been able to buy proper food since her Grandma had died.

Hayley reached for some plasters and her burn cream, dressing the wounds and rubbing lotion on her back. It was then she realized she'd been so tired since treating Harry that she had neglected using the medicinal cream. In the mirror, all that was reflected was a pasty ghost of a girl whose sparkle had long disappeared and ginger hair was starting to loose its luster. Wiping away her tears, Hayley clothed herself again and walked to the kitchen to make a late night chicken Pot Noddle.

* * *

There had been an issue with the redhead murderer, Mark Kinsey, who had been in court on a retrial under the opposing plea of non-insanity. This meant Hayley had been otherwise detained giving her medical opinion on Kinsey's psychosis and their sessions. Unable to see Harry for three days, she was happy to be back in the West wing to act on her research into his condition. Colin was still acting weird and as much as Hayley wanted to confront him about it, she was too exhausted from lack of sleep and the drama of being in court.

She gave the guard a small smile and was surprised when he didn't immediately open the door for her.

"Ya look like shit kid!" sniffed Colin as he folded his arms across his burly chest.

"Do I?" Hayley sighed tightening her ponytail, "I've never been in court before, and it was quite stressful."

"Kinsey righ'? Yeah 'e's a sick son bitch ain't he?"

"Sick yes. Insane? Yes. How has Harry been?" Hayley asked hopefully.

"Not done much. Told 'im yous were in court. Hasn't gone mental yet."

"Good! That's encouraging right?"

"Yup," the guard said shortly while he opened the cell door, waited for Hayley to enter, and then closed it quickly with a bang.

Everything in his cell still looked the same as the day she'd left but there was something vastly different about her patient.

Harry was draped over his bed, still cuffed, hands behind his head and whistling a strange tune. He was wearing the same orange jumpsuit, his fringe was still too long, hands still with long talon nails. However, what Hayley noticed, was how his skin was no longer green; gone was his usual jaundiced hue that she had grown familiar with. Even his darkened veins had lost their tinge and raised like quality. Other than crusty nasty looking skin lesions, Harry Osborn looked normal.

_Better than normal, he looks bloody handsome,_ Hayley thought.

He hadn't bothered to glance at her yet, allowing Hayley to just stand and stare in wonderment of her patient's transformation back into his former self.

"If you take a picture it'll last longer," Harry spoke smoothly, flipping his fringe from his sparkling eyes and grinning at her awestruck face.

He knew why she would be shocked, he knew he looked good, and he was eager to see her response. And she didn't disappoint. Harry's confident smile only widened when she hurried over to him.

Hayley could barely contain herself; it was quite simply, incredible. Being away from him the past three days, she had been nervous he might have relapsed since he couldn't take the medication she slipped him in their sessions. But no, he was practically human again – Doctor Scott would be fuming when he found out!

Shamelessly, Hayley scuttled to his bedside, dragging her chair closer so that she could get a better look, "Harry, how? You look… I can't believe it! May I?"

Gesturing to his face, Hayley waited for the man before her to sit up and then, with trembling hands, reached for his cheeks to examine him. She couldn't quite allow herself to do it; would she be crossing a line if she touched him? They had had contact before, normally initiated by Harry, except for when she had examined his mysterious injuries. This time, Hayley wanted to touch him, to feel him, because she was mesmerized with the sudden change in him. But the therapist inside her was screaming that it was inappropriate; she hesitated.

"Don't test my patience," Harry purred, taking her tentative hands and guiding them to press against his face, "Your _hesitation_ is killing me."

He sighed as Hayley's tiny hands began, finally, to explore his smooth and now youthful face. Harry was astounded at how tender she was - he'd _never_ felt such warmth from a woman. Closing his desire filled eyes, Harry chuckled lightly when the girl began to play with his fringe, trying to brush it from his face.

"It really needs a trim," she whispered. Then, Hayley felt her hands being taken by his, down along his jaw and over his neck. It was then that she felt something strange, "Harry, your neck!"

A large beastly lesion disrupted the flesh leading to his right shoulder. He hissed, removing her hands and pulling up the collar of his clothes to conceal it.

"You really need to get that seen too. Tomorrow, Doctor Scott has informed me that you will be going down to the Medical Examination room for a physical and some tests. So, we'll make sure to dress that wound."

He nodded in approval as Hayley wordlessly passed him three pills and a cup of water. Once he had swallowed them, Haley sat back in her seat to begin their first topic of conversation.

"I wondered if today we could talk about your illness, about the Osborn curse?"

"Ugh, if we must!" Harry rolled his eyes in disgust "That is the most pointless topic you could of chosen Hayley."

He had never said her real name before and it made her chest glow with heat rash – Harry's lips curled in a smug smile at enticing such a reaction from her.

"Why is it pointless? I think something as pivotal as inheriting your father's disease, which led to your transformation, is an important aspect of your life that we need to discuss."

Hayley had her shrink cap on today because progress in their sessions had to be made. Plus, she was curious to understand Harry's illness further, otherwise how could they possible hope to comprehend his Goblin metamorphosis.

Harry brushed at his bangs uncomfortably, "What's to know? It killed my father and was going to kill me."

"Do you think you're no longer at risk of death?"

"Possibly. Who knows really? The venom I injected myself was. Supposed. To. WORK!"

Hayley watched her patient angrily hit the wall beside him, "Why did think it would work Harry?"

"Because it worked for HIM! The venom was a success for P…"

"Who? Who did it work for Harry?" When he made a 'my lips are sealed' motion, Hayley continued a bit more forcefully, "Bu, obviously it didn't work for you; it only accelerated your condition, right? In the security footage taken from OsCorp, I saw part of your change; you looked like you were dying. And then you put on some suit… why?"

"The OsCorp Exo-Suit. It has a healing protocol… but, if you use those pretty little eyes of yours Hayley, you'll see that I am _not _cured."

"But it healed you?"

"Perhaps. The word is stabilised. Aren't you supposed to be the _doctor_ here Hayley?"

"I am a _nurse _and _psychiatrist_, Harry. And I was just curious of your own assessment."

Harry sneered slightly unkindly, "Keeping you out of the loop are they _Ginge_? Is Doctor Scott not, uh, taking your role in my treatment seriously?"

The young nurse fixed him with an equally nasty look, trying to pretend that his jab at her abilities didn't affect her. "Have you heard of a man called Doctor Connors?"

"Should I?" said Harry sounding bored of the conversation, though slightly annoyed that she hadn't taken the bait of him questioning her abilities as a medical professional.

"He was a biologist studying cross-species genetics – he worked for your father. Connors injected himself with a serum, like yours, or, maybe it was the same one. Anyway, he changed into a giant green mutated lizard." Hayley paused and watched realisation dawn on Harry's face, but as soon as she saw it, it was gone.

"Your point?" Harry fixed her with a cold uninterested stare.

"Oh, no reason. Just something for you to think about."

"Be _honest_ with me Hayley!"

"Excuse me?"

"I said be HONEST, DAMMIT!"

Getting swiftly to his feet like a shot, Harry stood threateningly over a still seated Hayley; putting his hands over head, he placed them on the back of her chair, effectively making her trapped. He stared deeply into her startled eyes searching for a reaction to his question. Hayley sat stock still, trying hard not to touch him because she didn't trust herself when she did.

Breathing heavily from his sudden outburst, Harry licked his lips, flicked away his fallen bangs, and tried a more gentle approach. "I wish you could just be honest Hayley. Why mention Connors?"

"H…Harry, I, I don't think this is appropriate, appropriate behaviour for a patient and psy…psychiatrist…" she stammered, suddenly feeling terrified.

Harry's piercing eyes narrowed darkly and a charming grin graced his face. Slowly, he learned further forward invading Hayley's personal space, causing her to lean back flush against the chair. With her where he wanted, Harry grabbed Hayley's auburn ponytail, tugging it sharply to grab her attention. He kept hold of it, controlling her movements so she would not shy away when he moved even closer. Their faces were practically touching now.

"Inappropriate?" he breathed, "Oh, we are past inappropriate, don't you think?" Harry proceeded to make the girl nod in response with a flick of his wrist, "Earlier, when you touched my face, was that not _inappropriate_ Hayley? Or what about in our last session huh? You wanted me to kiss you, I know you did."

Another marionette nod.

"Oh, well, if you insist," smirked Harry, before closing the very short distance between the pair and capturing Hayley's shocked mouth in a kiss.

He murmured in pleasure at seeing her eyes fly closed and feeling her soft lips tremble in response. Spurred on by her lack of rejection, Harry pulled her hair harder and bit her plump bottom lip, making her squeak. She opened her eyes to see him looking at her with lust, which only made Hayley melt beneath his kiss.

One last soft peck, and Harry drew back slightly to appreciate his nurse's flushed cheeks, rouged chest and swollen lips, "How was _that_ for inappropriate hmmm?"

He then removed his cuffed hands from her hair, brought them back over her head, and cupped her face like he had in their previous meeting. Hayley remained silent, still too shocked to even answer the grinning man in front of her. She was too caught up in the moment, too overwhelmed at experiencing her first kiss that she could barely form words.

"I...I…H…Harry…Harry! What's wrong with your hands?" Hayley could feel her face trembling but not from her own body's movements.

Snarling at himself, Harry quickly removed his hands, which were shaking uncontrollably. He kicked his bed furiously, the moment ruined, before jumping back onto his bed to sulk. Hayley gave him a quizzical look.

"Stupid Osborn curse," he muttered whilst clenching his hands in an effort to stop them twitching.

With his mood now soured, Hayley knew she wouldn't get anything useful from him concerning Retroviral Hyperplasia. Taking her cue to leave, she unsteadily stood and walked back to the cell door.

"Remember you have a physical…"

"Oh, I'll be here, waiting, for _you_."

"Behave yourself tomorrow… Please!" Hayley pleaded. They exchanged a look of understanding before she decided to leave Harry to his thoughts.

Once outside his closed door, Hayley breathed deeply, trying not to make eye contact with Colin who suspiciously noticed her reddened features. Before the guard had time to say anything, the nurse had hurried off down the corridor. Hayley tried to remain calm but could feel her heart pounding in her chest. When certain she was alone the young therapist fell back against a cold stone wall. Sliding down, Hayley pressed her damaged fingers to her kissed lips for confirmation of what had just transpired.

"What have I done?"

* * *

**OMFG! I kind of lost it when I was writing the last scene between Hayley and Harry! AHHHHHHH Finally!**

**Did everyone like my little science lesson? Haha sorry about how in depth I went with Harry's disease. I wanted to find some truth behind it even though it is a fantasy condition. I hope that answers one of my Guest reviewer's questions – I'm not too sure if Harry is still dying yet, more on that in the next chappy, but hopefully what I've written gives some insight. **

**And Peter came back yay XD I made it an especially long section for my girl **XLil MEkoX!

**Hoping to make the next chapter extra long because some shit is going down! **

**Much love to all my readers, reviewers, followers, favourite button pressers, you are all making my fanfiction experience a very happy and exciting one – you all inspire me to write more! As always, reviews and criticism are welcome xxx LOVE!**


	11. Chapter 11

**I do not own Marvel, Spider-Man or any of the characters associated with the franchise – just my ideas and Hayley my OC.**

* * *

It was nine in the morning, bright and early, and Harry could hear a lot of commotion outside his cell. He supposed it was to do with the medical exam he had scheduled today. Usually when he knew the guards were about to enter, Harry would be up, ready and waiting, to avoid any mistreatment. The guards, especially Colin, always liked to give him a good kick or whack where they knew Hayley wouldn't notice. Somehow, those types of men always chose the places that hurt the most but would bruise the least. If their rage wasn't directed at him then Harry could appreciate the guards' precision and commitment to their position. He scratched his ankle where a scab had formed from their most recent assault – military boots were lethal.

He whistled the Jeopardy theme, announcing how bored he was of waiting. The metal door swung open forcefully and caused him to flinch slightly.

_Clearly Colin was on a power trip today,_ Harry thought.

It was then that Hayley entered. She looked like she hadn't slept a wink the previous night, confirmed by the huge bags under those dim watery green eyes. Harry was momentarily shocked at how rough his nurse now appeared; her beautiful hair laid limp down and around her face, no longer in its usual sophisticated style. Her clothes were the same from the previous day but dishevelled, and there was a slight hunch to her back. Harry wasn't stupid; anyone with two brain cells could tell she was in trouble. He wondered why she turned up for work at all – had the other staff not noticed her fragile state? A part of him thought this might be a reaction to the kiss he'd forced upon her, but that conclusion quickly vanished when Hayley flashed him a warm and kind smile. So brave was his girl that she even tried to stand a little straighter to hide her obvious pain, just for him.

At this, Harry stood and walked towards her, lifting his hands to stroke the loose hair around her face.

"H…Harry, behave, _please,_" she whispered, voice cracking slightly like it distressed her even to talk.

"Be honest with…"

"Not now, Harry, _please_," Hayley pleaded again jerking her hair out of his grasp, "We have a session later. _Please_, just wait until then."

A loud persistent knock from outside caused her to turn, jumping from the sudden noise.

She quickly turned to face Harry again. "This will be a full physical medical examination and they will probably prod and poke you, a lot. There will be many doctors and guards, and they will probably irritate you, antagonise you, and try to abuse their power because they _can_!" she warned in a hurried hushed voice. "I will be with you as much as I can. _Please,_ do, not, kill, anyone."

Harry reached for her again, this time to collect a single tear that had rolled down her pale cheek during her little speech. He brought up the finger that held the droplet, scrutinized it with his penetrating eyes, and then tapped Hayley on the nose. The sudden playful action brought her out of the comatose sadness that plagued her. She seemed to wake up briefly, cocking an eyebrow at him and rolling her eyes, though with none of her usual spark.

The cell door opened abruptly, with an impatient cough from Colin to notify Hayley of their imminent departure. She smiled at Harry again though it didn't quite reach her eyes. The pair silently walked over to the exit and out into the brightly lit corridor.

Immediately, Colin and another guard grabbed Harry's cuffed arms, standing on either side of him to minimise an escape attempt. There were an additional two armoured guards behind him with guns poised, and another pair flagging Hayley in front of him; she appeared even more fragile now. Wordlessly, the troupe advanced down the passage towards an unknown destination. Harry could feel Colin's grip on his arm starting to bruise. What prevented him from ripping the piercings from the mans face, was Hayley acting like a nervous wreck.

As they walked past Room 125, Harry noticed a bald man with tattoos on his face glaring out the cell door window. The two exchanged eye contact. He made a mental note of the cell number before focusing back to Hayley who was talking.

Another man, this time with a crooked nose and yellow teeth, was conversing with the nurse through the bars of his door. The Ravencroft institute was situated at an old prison but had had to extend its architecture to accommodate the vast quantity of inmates and medical practises it offered. This meant some cells had bar doors from the old building, whereas Harry's room was high security from the new expansion.

"… disappointed, very disappointed with the verdict MJ!"

"We've been making good progress Kinsey…" Hayley said.

"Progress? Progress! Then why am I still in here, hmmm? Why am I not out in New York fucking some pretty little redhead…"

"Oi! Shut it freak!" threatened the prison guard on Hayley's left, whacking his baton against the bars. "Come on lads, we're late!"

He fully expected the strange inmate to eyeball him like many of the others had, especially since Harry was a relatively new prisoner in comparison to the lifers. However, his blood started to boil when he noticed that Kinsey was too preoccupied staring at someone else. The eyes of that slime ball were raking up and down Hayley's slight figure; the man seemed beside himself, breathing heavily, obsessively biting his nails like he was trying to restrain himself. Harry could recognise the look of lust when he saw it. And it made him angry. He could feel the Goblin inside wanting to emerge and creating chaos.

As they continued on, drawing closer to the North wing, Hayley turned to see how her patient was coping. Harry's jaw was rigid, his eyebrows furrowed in frustration and he was walking like a man ready to strike. It scared her to death to see him so close to breaking. She didn't want the Goblin to come out, not today of all days! Today was too important to her and for him for it to turn sour.

Hayley subtly coughed to catch his attention. Immediately his head snapped up to focus on her, causing Hayley to smile faintly at the intense look in his eyes. Behind her back Hayley made a 'v' sign with her good hand. He snorted at her swearing, recognising it as an attempt to prevent a sudden psychosis episode with her ridiculousness.

Unfortunately Harry's reaction only caused the guards on his arms to tighten their grip. He gritted his teeth trying hard not to hiss at the pain – he knew guards got off on crap like that.

The heavily armoured group came to a halt outside a mechanised glass door marked 'North wing'. One of the guards walked forward and punched in a numerical code on the security panel at a furious speed.

Hayley was dreading going inside. The North wing was the most sophisticated area in Ravencroft, housing all the gadgets and technology that the late Doctor Kafka enjoyed torturing his patients with. This included the medical labs, an intensive treatment centre, interrogation rooms, and the voltage cells that once held Electro. All the highest standing doctors at the institute had their offices situated in the North wing. Hayley didn't know how they could stand to work in a wing where screaming could be heard every hour like clockwork.

Once inside the dreaded North wing, a tall man with black hair, glasses, and horrendous acne bounded forward holding a clipboard. Harry snorted again and flipped his bangs elegantly upon seeing how this new man was, like many others, ogling at Hayley like he'd never seen a girl in his life. He didn't feel threatened by this guy, unlike Kinsey.

_There is no way geek boy here would ever have a chance with my Hayley,_ Harry thought.

It was almost sad seeing the lad trying to impress her.

"Doctor Hayley I presume?"

"Er, no, I'm only a therapist, I mean nurse," Hayley said irritated – she may have her doctorate in Psychiatry but there was no way Doctor Scott would employ her as anything other than a nurse. Regardless of the fact that she was a practising psychiatrist for twenty of Ravencroft's inmates. "You can call me Hayley or Miss Carmichael if you prefer."

"Hayley it is. I'm assistant Doctor Ross Cooper," Ross spoke happily, extending his sweaty palm towards Hayley for an official handshake. It made Harry want to kill him for even touching her. "Well, I'll show you to the treatment room we've prepared for Mr Osborn's visit."

And with a dramatic swish of his lab coat, Ross led the group away from the entrance and into the bowels of the North wing. As if on cue, a patient's scream could be heard echoing in one of the surrounding rooms. Ross didn't seem to mind as he started to chat away animatedly to Hayley as if the guards and Harry didn't even exist.

"So, Hayley. _That_ is the Goblin? Doesn't seem very impressive now does he," Ross said confidently, "Looks like every other rich kid I've seen! Bet he has a daddy complex too…"

"If you would, Doctor Cooper, I'd try not to antagonise my patient," she snapped, "We wouldn't want you getting hurt." Hayley then flashed Harry a cheeky smile when he let out a cackling laugh.

"Er, right, yeah." Ross looked nervously at the cuffed man behind him then back to the ginger nurse, "So you're his therapist yeah?"

"That's correct, Einstein, _Ginge_ is _my_ psychiatrist. Why, have _you_ got daddy issues?" Harry interrupted smugly – he really did not like this guy.

When Colin made a move to hit him for speaking, Hayley quickly intervened, "Do not attack my patient Colin! It is a vital part of his therapy that he be allowed to speak his mind in any situation, regardless of what he says being positive or negative!"

Harry let out another series of laughs, realising that his girl was talking a load of bull. Even though she appeared fragile and Harry knew she wasn't feeling good today, he had to admire her inner strength in these situations.

Trying to advance on his question, Ross spoke again, "Do you treat Schultz? Or Kasady?"

"I treat a number of inmates at Ravencroft, Doctor Cooper, and, as a psychiatrist, I never discuss my patients," Hayley said sharply, wanting to end the conversation.

Fortunately for Hayley, they had finally reached their destination of treatment room 9. There were a number of people waiting for the group when they entered, but only four that Hayley recognised; the old West wing guards Bill and Ernie, the highly renowned Doctor Poland, and, unfortunately, Doctor Scott. There were also three other men, whom Hayley could see were assistant nurses and doctors like Ross. The room was feeling rather cramped, and the two guards who had accompanied Hayley's side on their journey, as well as the gun wielding ones behind Harry, turned to leave, their mission accomplished.

With the treatment room door now closed, Hayley suddenly realised that she was the only female in the room.

"Ah, Mr Osborn. You're looking extremely well," Doctor Poland stated, observing the obvious changes in Harry's appearance since the last time they met – Poland had been present when the Goblin had first been brought to Ravencroft. He scribbled down a few notes on his clipboard before turning to Ross, "Cooper, please take Mr Osborn to the adjoining room so he can change into a gown."

Ross nodded a little too enthusiastically before leading Harry and two guards towards the changing room. Hayley made a move to follow.

"Not you Miss Carmichael. I think Mr Osborn would prefer some privacy hmmm? Hence the all male medical staff," Doctor Poland smiled.

"I think Harry would prefer me to be present."

"Oh, _would_ he?" said Doctor Scott, his voice laced with insinuation.

Realising what she had just inferred, Hayley blushed furiously at her mistake, "Er, um, what I mean is, as his therapist, I need to be present throughout this physical to ensure no harm comes to my patient and the progress we've been making." When Doctor Scott began to protest, she continued, "We wouldn't want Mr Osborn to experience a psychotic episode and I not be nearby, _would we_?"

"Very well Miss Carmichael," responded Doctor Poland anxious to begin, "But I think Mr Osborn does not need you to help him undress. So you will stay here in the examination room."

"Of course, Doctor Poland," relented Hayley who was still bright red.

She watched Harry leave the room; he gave her a wink, his smirk full of playful charm. Hayley prayed that he wouldn't kill anyone in the fifteen minutes they were apart.

* * *

The doctors were silent whilst they waited for Harry to return, and truthfully, it put Hayley on edge. Instead of prepping his assistants, Doctor Poland was simply staring at the door. It was starting to unnerve her how calm and collected they all were, like they had a plan of action that she wasn't in on. But then, when was she ever kept in the know when it came to Harry?

It was surprising to see him without his jumpsuit and hand and feet cuffs; Harry seemed to glide back into the room as if he owned the place, his rich boy persona in full swing, rubbing his wrists and cracking his knuckles. He captivated Hayley. Even in a medical gown Harry oozed sophistication.

When he saw the auburn girl gazing at him, her gave her another mischievous wink and one of his dazzling smiles. She wouldn't have minded so much if the whole room of doctors hadn't noticed too. Doctor Scott gave her a rather disgusted look.

"If you please, Mr Osborn, would you take a seat on medical bed," instructed Doctor Poland, snapping on a pair of disposable surgical gloves and adjusting the stethoscope around his neck. Once Harry had complied, swinging his legs in a bored manner, the doctor approached, placing the stethoscope bell on his gown-covered chest. "Breathe in and out, nice and deep, perfect."

The doctor continued the physical by inspecting Harry's eyes, ears, nose and mouth, whilst barking his findings to Ross and the others who were keenly noting it all down on their clipboards.

Colin, Ernie and Bill were situated behind the medical bed, not too close but not too far in case Harry tried to refuse or attack anyone. This meant that Hayley had somehow ended up standing next to Doctor Scott, who kept glaring down at her. She tried to ignore him by keeping focused on Harry. Hayley felt like there wasn't enough air in the room; knowing that he didn't particularly like to be touched made her hold her breath every time Doctor Poland inspected a new body part. She had to admit that Harry was doing extremely well and she thought he would have refused by now. What seemed to be keeping him calm was how his eyes never drifted from Hayley.

"Teeth seem slightly discoloured, lips are dry, hair in good condition…"

"Could do with a trim though, right Doc?" Harry smirked doing his usual fringe flip, "Though, I'd prefer a real hairdresser and not some Sweeny Todd doctor."

Hayley tried to conceal a laugh by having a very unattractive coughing fit, which only made Harry's smirk widen.

Looking between the two, Doctor Scott narrowed his eyes, growing exceedingly suspicious at their behaviour. Doctor Poland seemed a bit ruffled by Harry's sudden desire to talk but continued.

Grabbing his hand, Doctor Poland inspected Harry's nails, "Patient's nails appear yellowed, longer than usual, extremely hard, almost talon like… in need of a good manicure, hmmm." The doctor guffawed at his own joke, with his assistants joining him, and Ross adding an occasional snort.

Harry looked less than impressed and ripped his hand out of the doctor's grasp.

"Toenails appear the same way," piped up Ross kneeling down by Harry's feet, "Has lacerations on his ankles, probably caused by continual use of restraining cuffs. Bruising and scabbing can also be seen on the right ankle."

Another assistant chimed in, "Cuffs have also cut significantly into Mr Osborn's wrists."

"Yes, yes, make a note of your observations and mark them down on the diagram," ordered Doctor Poland who had begun taking Harry's blood pressure. "Now, Mr Osborn, if you could untie the back of your gown so we can evaluate your chest and back."

Giving the doctor a look that could kill, Harry huffily reached behind his neck, undid the tie, and allowed the gown the drop around his waist.

Hayley gasped at finally seeing the full extent of the green sores on his body. It was horrific that he had been suffering for so long; similar to the one on his neck, Harry had three large wounds that appeared angry and irritated, weeping with blood and goodness knows what. And Hayley hadn't seen his back yet! Regardless of the lesions, his body was smooth, well toned and with a hint of muscle. Hayley couldn't stop her eyes from wandering.

Motioning to Ross, Doctor Poland continued, "Cooper, if you could inspect the wounds on Mr Osborn's body…"

"Touch me and you're dead," Harry hissed at the young doctor.

"Am I hearing you correct, Mr Osborn," jumped in Doctor Scott, walking forwards, "Are you refusing to be examined?"

Before Harry could growl "yes", Hayley rushed towards the doctors, "No. No, Mr Osborn is not refusing at _all! _I think, doctor, that what my patient means, is that he would prefer for Doctor Cooper not to examine him. Perhaps a doctor of his choice or one he is more familiar with."

"And pray tell _where _would we find such a doctor?" snapped Doctor Scott, thoroughly irritated by this absolute farce happening in his institute.

"You don't have to look far, _doctor_," Harry retorted smoothly "I think Miss Carmichael is _fully_ qualified to dress and clean wounds, wouldn't you agree?" He was getting sick of everyone talking about him like he was invisible, making his choices for him. He was the Harry Osborn dammit!

"Very well, very well, let's just get on with it!" Doctor Poland uttered, almost as annoyed as Doctor Scott. "Take the disinfectant and bandages from Cooper, if you please Miss Carmichael."

Hayley walked forward, a bit nervous with all male eyes now directed at her, and awkwardly took the First Aid box from Ross. She gently placed it on the bed beside Harry, fumbling slightly opening the rubbing alcohol. Bringing a soaked cotton ball to the lesion on his neck, Hayley carefully wiped around the area to sterilise the surrounding skin before placing it directly on the wound. Harry hissed and jerked away slightly, though did not voice his discomfort.

Continuing methodically, Hayley cleaned and dressed the following three sores on his front, while the room looked on in silence. All Hayley could hear were Harry and hers breathing, keeping hers calm and steady so he could focus on her pattern and match it if the pain became too much. She almost completely forgot that there were seven other people in the room.

Having worked in Ravencroft for a year Hayley had seen her fair share of naked bodies. There had once been an incident where there was a prisoner riot in the lunchroom and some of the more mentally disturbed had removed their clothes – she had seen it _all_ that day.

Of course, Hayley had been in close contact with her patient before, but this was different. His skin was so smooth under her tiny hands; she felt electricity running through her fingers, sparking when they came in contact with his solid shoulders, toned chest and abdomen. She felt him shudder slightly, letting out a low breathy growl when she attended to the large sore near his hip. Unconsciously, one of Hayley's fingers on the hand she had pressed against his chest to steady herself, slowing caressed the skin under it.

The movement was too minute for the doctors to see but Harry could feel it. He committed to memory the way her fingers felt against his bare skin and how her hair smelt like raspberries, so soft and silky when it tickled him on occasion.

_If there weren't three guards and an army of useless doctors in the room,_ Harry thought, _I would continue what I started when we kissed._

Fortunately there were only a couple of small wounds on Harry's back, more the beginnings of serious lesions than fully formed ones like on his front. Hayley made her work quick and placed plasters on the cuts. Once done, she stood back for the other doctors to survey her medical efficiency.

Harry smirked at the judgemental physicians knowing they hated watching the young nurse be gentle when they would have been brash.

"Quite good Miss Carmichael, obviously you've been watching a lot of medical shows."

The assistants and Poland laughed at Doctor Scott's demeaning joke, whilst Harry scowled angrily at their obvious sexist prejudice. He could see Hayley forcing a small smile although her whole body looked physically dejected and saddened at her abilities being mocked. She moved away from Harry and the group of doctors, her purpose now done. It made him livid to see Hayley subjected to such mistreatment by her peers. Harry could hear the Goblin shouting in his mind about killing everyone in the room. As much as that sounded like a perfect punishment, he had to keep control. Only Hayley seemed to spot how his fists clenched.

"We need to extract more blood from you Mr Osborn. I trust Miss Carmichael does not need to assist in this process?" Doctor Poland said sarcastically.

Harry's eyes narrowed at the doctor's request but held out his arm and submitted to their testing.

Hayley could see that Harry wasn't happy, that he was desperately trying to conceal his frustration and control the Goblin from emerging. It made her heart soar to know that he was trying so hard. However she was afraid that the memory of the last time his blood was taken might resurface in his subconscious and cause a psychotic episode.

Once the blood was taken and the needle removed, Harry shuddered and rubbed his arm. He was sick of being poked and prodded; he needed this to be over with. Now.

Retying the gown so that he was covered again, Harry jumped up from the bed, making everyone else in the room tense and take a step back. The three guards behind were ready to pounce but waited for him to make the first move.

"Are we done?" Harry yawned whilst inspecting his talon nails, fully acting like the stuck-up rich boy they all expected him to be.

"If you would step on the scales we'll record your weight and then your height Mr Osborn," instructed Doctor Poland walking Harry over to near the wall where the measurements were to be taken.

He complied without fuss but continued to look thoroughly exasperated to still be in the treatment room for over an hour.

Whilst Harry's height was being taken, Hayley was steeling herself to discuss an important matter that had been bugging her for some time. Turning to Doctor Scott, she plucked up the courage to ask him an imperative question.

"Erm, Doctor Scott," Hayley stuttered nervously, "Would we be able to arrange a meeting this week? I have an important matter I'd like…"

"There are _certainly_ things we need to discuss Miss Carmichael," Doctor Scott said sharply, "Come to my office in an hour after your session with Mr Osborn today."

"T…Today? Tomorrow would be fine also…"

Hayley and Doctor Scott were suddenly interrupted by a loud aggressive shout; Harry, breathing heavily, was backed against the wall yelling and snarling at the surrounding doctors. He was sweating, with the veins on his neck pulsing rapidly and a deathly green glow in his once sparkling blue eyes. The guards were on him in an instant, slamming his body to the ground whilst he fought, bit and scratched to get free.

Hayley screamed in horror as Colin and the others started to strike any of Harry's exposed body parts with their fists and batons. Meanwhile, Doctor Poland and Ross were preparing a large syringe with a sedative.

Racing towards the fight, Hayley started to shriek, "STOP! What are you doing?! He hasn't done anything! Why are you doing this? STOP! PLEASE!"

She had never witnessed such brutality up close and it terrified her. Seeing Colin raise his fist to bring down a devastating blow on Harry's head, Hayley made a split second decision. Pushing past the assistant doctors, she flung herself towards Harry, accepting Colin's punch instead. The strike had her reeling with its intensity and Hayley collapsed to the floor with tears streaming down her face.

Everyone stopped.

Hayley seized the moment of motionless silence, "Will _someone_ tell me, WHY MY PATIENT IS BEING TREATED THIS WAY?" She winced at the pain in her jaw that talking had caused, touching her lip to feel it bleeding.

"Mr Osborn refused the genitalia and rectal examination part of his physical," Doctor Poland explained quietly, still clutching the sedative loaded syringe, "We also need to take some samples for the lab."

"He has every right to refuse!" spat Hayley, glaring at the older doctor.

"That is where you are wrong Miss Carmichael," smiled Doctor Scott gleefully, "As a patient at Ravencroft, Mr Osborn has _no_ rights."

"This whole process has caused my patient_ significant _mental damage, and as his psychiatrist…"

"Oh, but you are _not_ his psychiatrist, not really." Doctor Scott bent over Hayley, who was still crumpled on the floor, using his position to intimidate her, "You are employed as nurse, and _only_ a nurse, Miss Carmichael. So you see, you really have no say in the matter." The doctor's manic smile only widened upon seeing fresh tears streaming down her crumpled face, "Ernie, will you please escort Miss Carmichael back to the West wing – use as much force as you see fit."

"No! NO! You can't do this. STOP!" Hayley screamed at the top of her lungs and began to cry harder as she felt the guard grab her waist, practically carrying her towards the exit.

Watching his broken therapist fighting to keep him safe only fuelled Harry's anger. With a fresh burst of energy he roared at the remaining guards and began to struggle against their hold. He wanted to kill them, he wanted to tear them limb from limb.

The Goblin was breaking through the cracks.

The last thing Hayley saw as Ernie lugged her out of the room, were the Goblin's green filled eyes bearing into her own, while Doctor Poland stabbed the syringe into his shaking arm.

* * *

Ernie had locked her inside Room 136 because whenever he let her go, Hayley would just start running back to the North wing. Nothing the guard could say or do would calm her in that moment.

A thousand things were racing through Hayley's mind, unsure of what Doctor Scott and Poland would do to Harry now that he was sedated and she no longer in the room. It terrified her imagining all the horrific tests they could be doing to him. Hayley knew that the doctors' were capable of indecent medical practise. Doctor Kafka was a power hungry evil man whom Hayley had never had the displeasure of meeting, but had heard the horrendous stories. Torture, under the guise of medical science, had been conducted on Max Dillon, which had resulted in Kafka's death.

No doubt Doctor Scott was eager to take up his partner's mantle.

She sat alone, knees against her chest, hair curtaining her devastated face from the harrowing world beyond Harry's cell. Hayley had given up trying to escape from his room after fifteen minutes of continuous shouting for help and banging her fists on the metal door – if the incarcerated could not escape Ravencroft's confines, then what hope did she have?

The room was claustrophobic, cold and isolating, making Hayley feel small and useless.

_I'm just a girl,_ Hayley thought, _what can I do? What could I even do?_

Time was lost to her, its concept removed with the lack of a watch or any way to tell of its progression. Hayley estimated that she'd been waiting for an hour but to her it felt like years. It made her reflect on her own years of solitude she had endured at the destructive burning hands of fire. Her world had been shattered that day. Her world had been removed, reshaped and reformed with the rapid decline of her own self worth and place in the world.

Hayley sighed, thinking that it was ironic that she'd even become a psychiatrist.

Having never spent time in a cell other than with her patients, Hayley was beginning to think that maybe those with serious psychosis should not be imprisoned in one. The isolation was getting to her and she dreaded to think how it affected prisoners on a daily basis. Especially Harry, who had experienced no love or stable relationships. Loneliness for him was normal but not without harmful consequence. Loosing his mother so young had exposed Harry to Norman Osborn's wrath; a vulnerable child with only a distant and abusive father to learn human emotion from. It had left him cold and hardened, driven by negative feelings due to not being exposed to love and kindness. His rage was nuclear but not without deeply rooted reason. These were the thoughts that plagued Hayley's mind whilst she waited for Harry to return.

She didn't have to wait much longer.

The screeching sound of the door being unlocked and opened roused Hayley with fresh fighting energy. She was about to make a break for freedom before Colin and Bill threw Harry inside the cell.

Certain he was inside, Colin relocked the door not realising Hayley remained also.

"Harry? Harry are you ok?" whispered Hayley full of concern as she crawled over to where he lay on the ground. She then hesitantly brought a comforting hand to his back.

He jerked away from Hayley's kindness, rejecting the physical contact like she had caused him great pain. "Get off me! Why are you even still here?"

Harry moved from the floor to the sink to splash water on his bruised face. It hurt him considerably to pretend that his body did not ache; with such a show of weakness in the North wing, having to submit to those stupid doctors, Harry could not bare for his nurse to see him broken. She'd tried so hard to save him, displayed immense strength of character even though she, like him in that moment, was physically weak. Harry couldn't figure out why he hadn't been strong enough to fight those three guards.

From his fight with Peter, he knew that the spider venom had given him superhuman strength. Maybe by repressing the Goblin, Harry was loosing some of the powers he had earned from his transformation. He'd have to ask Hayley about her crazy theories on Id suppression when she wasn't so distressed.

She had yet to respond to his question, so, sitting lazily on his bed, Harry tried a different approach, "Why'd you stay with me?"

"I…I…I'm your therapist, your nurse, it was my duty to stay," Hayley replied from her seated position on the stone ground.

Shaking his head and giving her an angry glare, Harry retorted "No. No, do not give me the same bullshit you did the doctors! Honesty is the best policy with me Hayley, I do not like _secrets_!" Still getting no response he then shouted, "BE HONEST WITH ME!"

"Honesty and transparency make you vulnerable - be honest and transparent," Hayley quoted under her breath.

"WHAT?"

Looking into his rage filled eyes, Hayley identified another emotion; it was small and distant yet distinct. She could see the vulnerable little boy who had grown up without a mother, who had asked how she died and been lied to, told it was his fault. Hayley saw a man before her who lived in a world of serpents and only knew tongues that lied. So she decided to be honest. She decided to be transparent for once.

"Harry, I stayed _because_ I wanted to, because I was _scared_ they would hurt you. And, I don't want you to get hurt anymore than you already have."

"Why?"

"Because, you _deserve_ better."

Harry looked a little perplexed by her sudden revelation but continued to stare at her nonetheless. "I want to see my lawyer," he said calmly, folding his arms. He then chuckled slightly at seeing her eyes widen at his strange request.

"Your, your lawyer? Why?" Hayley was thoroughly confused now.

She had hoped that Harry might have responded more positively to her sentiment, but instead he'd closed himself up. It was sad to see considering the progress they had seemingly been making in their sessions. Maybe he didn't trust her enough yet? And if not, then he would never trust any positive emotion she showed him.

"I may have no rights here, but, if I am to be tried for my crimes, as I'm sure I will be, then I need to see my lawyer."

Hayley was at a loss for words. Sure he was right but Doctor Scott would never agree to it. Before she could fathom a response, the door swung open violently.

"Wha' ya doin' in 'ere Hayley?" Colin asked, surprised to learn from Ernie only a few moments ago that the young nurse was probably stuck in Harry's cell. "Didn't know yous were in 'ere! Shoulda said somethin'! Anyways, Doctor Scott wants to see ya, time for ya meetin' or somethin'."

Gulping hard, Hayley glanced nervously at Harry who was pretending to ignore Colin's interference. She really didn't want to leave him again; she was too frightened that something else might happen. However, Hayley reluctantly got to her feet and left the room, knowing that as much as she was scared of Doctor Scott, she really needed this meeting.

* * *

Standing outside Doctor Scott's office in the North wing, Hayley tried to straighten her rumpled clothes, licking her lips in case blood had dried on them from Colin's punch. Her face was still sore and she was beginning to feel sick with nerves.

Knowing that the doctor was an impatient man, she quickly tapped on the door and entered upon hearing a very disgruntled voice bark, "ENTER!"

The doctor's office was clinical with an obsessive-compulsive order; it was devoid of colour and light, white walls covered in framed certificates of achievement and qualifications. Even the books shelved on a wooden cellaret were arranged in alphabetical order, and looked as pristine as the day they were bought. Hayley could see suits and ties hanging in a thin ebony wardrobe, the fabric poker straight and militant, the garments placed in a carefully considered manner. Even the doctor's umbrella and coat, which hung on metal coat rack, were arranged with precision.

The bureau that Doctor Scott was seated behind was neat and tidy also. A row of expensive fountain pens lined the many manila folders stacked immaculately next to a pricey top of the range computer. Doctor Scott clearly was an anal-retentive man, and being inside his domain was intimidating.

Hayley took a seat in an antique yet sterile chair, wiping her sweaty palms uneasily on her baggy suit trousers. She waited hesitantly unsure whether to talk first.

"Um, Doctor Scott? I…I wanted to ask you about my employment contract…" The doctor raised an eyebrow but made no move to speak, so Hayley continued, "I am aware that my job title is that of a nurse. However, since I act as a psychiatrist to many patients, and considering the work I have done with Mr Osborn, I think…I…I deserve a raise."

"_Excuse_ me?"

"Or a change of position to full time psychiatrist…maybe?" Upon seeing the doctor's livid face, Hayley decided to keep talking to prevent him from interrupting and shouting at her. Stumbling over her words she said, "My work these past three months… ex…exceeds that of a nurse. I have a doctorate in Psychiatry and I… I should be treated as such! I have a dual medical license to practise as both. Please, Doctor Scott, I really need the money, I'm struggling…"

"ENOUGH!" Doctor Scott slammed down his fist and rose superiorly from his chair, "You are a_ disgrace _to my institution! You are an _insignificant _little girl trying to play in the big leagues. How dare you walking around here as if you are superior, as if you possess the medical education to rival my own! The _only _reason you have not been fired yet is because you are useful in regards to controlling Mr Osborn!"

Hayley was sick and tired of being bullied, sick of getting nowhere in her life and being a doormat. "You cannot treat me like this! If you do not give me a raise, I will go public with the torture and treatment of the patient's that reside…"

"How _dare _you threaten me, girl! If you EVER go to a newspaper or the Daily Bugle, I, will, RUIN YOU!" shouted an enraged Doctor Scott. Sitting back down, the doctor picked up a pen and began pointing it at Hayley, "Think about all the people who know about your sordid relationship with Mr Osborn. Oh, yes, I know all about that. I have even witnessed your outrageous behaviour and been told many things from the rest of my staff."

The sick feeling in her stomach only intensified and Hayley felt bile crawling up her throat at the doctor's words. What had people seen? What had they said to him? Apart from the kiss, Hayley had never outwardly expressed any poor conduct towards Harry around others…had she? Her face blanched as the doctor continued his assault.

"Do you know what "Erotic Transference" is Miss Carmichael?"

Hayley nodded.

"Please explain to me what it is so that I am clear _you_ understand the definition."

"Erotic transference is the process by which a patient subconsciously develops romantic feelings towards their th…therapist. It happens in a person with a history of rejection or misunderstanding…" Hayley spoke shakily, realising the doctor's implication.

"It's some psycho-mumbo jumbo, but it can also happen in reverse," Doctor Scott eyed the shocked girl triumphantly. "In a court of law, you would loose your _duel _medical license for crossing the boundaries of patient and therapist. There is a line that you _cannot_ cross under any circumstances! And you have been abusing your power as a psychiatrist, manipulating Mr Osborn for your own personal gain, haven't you?" He laughed at seeing Hayley's mouth open in shock. "Of course, that's what I would say if you EVER went public. Who would New York believe – an established doctor, or an orphan who can barely take care of herself? I. OWN. YOU!"

Hayley opened her mouth again to try and defend herself but no sound came out.

"You will continue your work with Mr Osborn and the other patients because I find it amusing to indulge you. You will not receive a promotion or pay rise as long as you work here and you will not leave Ravencroft otherwise I will destroy you." Picking up his phone to make a call, Doctor Scott waved his hand as a dismissal "Now leave. I'm sick of looking at you."

She could barely stand due to her knees shaking but Hayley slowly shuffled towards the exit. Her eyes were prickling with tears needing to spill, and yet she forced herself to say one last thing to the horrible doctor.

"Mr Osborn requested an audience with his lawyer in case he is to go to court in the near future," Hayley stated, hating that her voice cracked and broke with raw emotion needing to release.

"I will arrange it."

And with an answer received, Hayley rushed out of Doctor Scott's office and the North wing. She ran back to Harry's cell, the only place she felt safe in this hellhole.

* * *

**Sorry it's taken me longer to update than usual, I wanted this chapter to be perfect for you. I also had a bit of writer's block – I knew what I wanted to write but it just wouldn't come out of my mind ARGH!**

**Oh my god guys, WHY am I so mean to Hayley? It makes me soooo sad to write her in this state! She is a character who is a very extreme version of myself so sometimes writing her can be hard, but I think it makes her more credible and relatable if I put a bit of myself in her, don't you think? **

**And…. We hit the 50 reviews AND 50 followers mark… AHHHHH! Never in my wildest dreams did I ever think that would happen. You guys are so fantastic I wish I could hug you all! Love and thank you to all the new people who are reading my story and also to my faithful readers who have been with me from the beginning. **

**Also…. I have Dane as my mac desktop background, and I may have had a wonderful dream about him….. this story is taking over my life XD**

**Hope you enjoyed this longer chapter – more Harry and Hayley togetherness in the next update xxx MUCH LOVE!**


	12. Chapter 12

**I do not own Marvel, Spider-Man, or any other characters associated with the franchise – just Hayley my OC.**

* * *

Harry was exhausted.

His body still ached and he had barely moved since Hayley's departure. Of course he was curious as to why she had a meeting with the evil doctor, but he was too knackered to truly care. He was still unsure of what exactly happened after he was sedated; being equally sore everywhere, Harry couldn't locate any part of his body that might have been further inspected after he blacked out. The only thing that had obviously changed was his nail length. No doubt the doctors had cut his finger and toenails to study in the laboratory. It wasn't quite the manicure Doctor Poland had promised but he now looked more civilised and less like a monster.

When Harry scratched his head in thought his fingers discovered a small tuft of hair at the back that was shorter than the rest. He ran his thumb over the short bristles, growing irritated that another part of him was now under the assessment of some microscope. Along with the extra blood test, Harry was starting to wonder what kind of other tests Ravencroft were conducting. Sure they wanted to understand his transformation, as did he, however he was suspicious of their motives. To understand his goblin-like changes the doctors would have to comprehend his illness.

Norman Osborn had spent his entire life trying to find a cure, paying the best and brightest, so what interest would an institution for the criminal insane have when they weren't being paid? Or maybe they were? Maybe there was an outside force, something bigger than Doctor Scott and Ravencroft, which wanted to discover the physical interactions the OsCorp spider venom caused. Harry thought back to a name Hayley had mentioned in one of their sessions; Doctor Curtis Connors. More knowledge on Connors would be useful since Hayley's tale of the doctor had sparked his interest. He could barely remember hearing that name at his first meeting as acting CEO all those many months ago.

When he heard the cell door opening slowly, Harry groaned, praying it wasn't the guards back for more. However, after the door closed quietly, a sniffing sound alerted him to a female visitor. Idly turning his head towards the intruder, his eyes fell on Hayley, visibly shaking, tears flowing down her distraught face.

"I…I… sniff, I didn't know where else t…to go…" Hayley hiccupped trying to construct a coherent sentence.

She stood for just a moment holding on to the small shred of authority and dignity she still had, before the emotions became to strong. Glancing towards the ceiling in defeat, Hayley crumbled, dropping to the cold ground, giving into the intensity of her sadness. She wasn't a noisy crier, only verbalising small emotive squeaks and heavy breathing. Her world was falling apart.

Remaining rooted to his bed, Harry sat up, staring intently at the crying girl before him. He had no idea what to do. No one had ever cried in front of him before. Once, at a party, a drunken model started to weep because she was apparently in love with him – Harry quickly left before things became too complicated. But that was different.

Here Hayley was, broken and exposed, vulnerable, and she had come to him? It made him feel important, honoured even that she seemed to need him. As a boy, Harry had always cried alone after his father hurt him – never would he cry with an audience. His lips curled triumphantly, recognising a small victory; Hayley needed him. She craved him, no, she was _drawn_ to him.

Getting to his feet, Harry cautiously approached his psychiatrist, still unsure how to provide her with comfort. He crouched down beside her and moved away her hands that covered her petite face. Harry then took her face in his own hands causing Hayley to unfurl from her heap on the floor. She straightened slightly in her kneeling position so that Harry could cradle her cheeks softly.

He skimmed her bruised and swollen jaw with his fingers, "I never did thank you for taking that punch for me," Harry purred. "It was foolish and stupid, you silly foolish girl," he chastised with a smirk before tapping her on the nose like he was telling her off. A small shy smile appeared momentarily on Hayley's face, and Harry was once again blown away by her inner strength. He then wiped away the tears from her face, though diamond droplets remained on her long eyelashes, "Tell me who did this to you."

Hayley was unsure; by revealing the incident with Doctor Scott, it could undermine the doctor's authority and cause Harry to be less cooperative in the future. However, she was pretty sure that he despised the doctor as much as she did, and Hayley really had no one else to confide in. She couldn't tell Peter because this was Ravencroft business and, as he worked freelance for the Daily Bugle, he might blab to the editor about the corrupt institute – Hayley couldn't take that risk.

The only person in this whole world that would understand was Harry. So she took a risk.

"I…I…Doctor Scott, he…I…"

"Breathe, Hayley," whispered Harry, stroking the hair away from her face.

"You saw how they treated me," she sobbed, "They don't respect me, they don't value the work that I do. I…I have a degree in Psychiatry, Harry; we've been making good progress together. But Scott…he…he doesn't agree with the practise of psychiatry. He thinks its mumbo jumbo. He only lets me act as a therapist to patient's he can't control or who face court trials because the law requires psychiatric evaluation." Hayley faltered to take in large breaths of air, "I'm employed as a nurse. I…I can't pay my rent, my bills, my medica… I asked for a raise…and…and he threatened me!"

Collapsing into fresh tears, Hayley reached for Harry, flinging her arms around his neck to cry into his shoulder. Harry fell back on his bum with the force of her hug, his back hitting the wall behind. She clung to him and he could feel Hayley's fingers entwining subconsciously in his hair as she searched for stability and comfort.

A grin that the Cheshire cat himself would be proud of spread across Harry's face. Inside, the Goblin was practically dancing, urging him to run his hands over Hayley's body.

"_She's ours now!" _sang the Goblin in Harry's mind. "_Look at her! It's almost pathetic. Though, she is beautiful in her weakness… now's your chance, make a move! Now!"_

Still crying on his shoulder, Hayley couldn't see how Harry's eyes flashed in anger at the Goblin's demands that were raging in his head. "Do you really have no tact at all?" Harry thought, "she's bearing her soul, and you want to fuck her? Seriously, do you think of nothing else?"

"_No. I will always want to fuck her."_

"True," smirked Harry in silent agreement with the Goblin. He then became aware that Hayley had stopped sobbing and was mumbling something against his shoulder.

She felt Harry pulling her gently away from his shoulder so that he could hear her words. Complying, Hayley continued, "He said he'd fire me! And then he implied that we… that I… If I told the world of his torturous ways, he would fire me and take me to court…I could loose my medical license!"

Now Harry was confused, "Why would you loose your license?"

Gulping hard, Hayley shook her head, her doe eyes wide in fear of how he might respond.

This made Harry sigh exasperatedly at her uneasiness and he gripped her chin harshly. "_Don't_ make me ask you again."

Unable to hang her head in shame, Hayley looked down at the floor instead. "They think that I'm in…in love with you. That I'm sl…sleeping with you to further my career…" She then peeked up through her lashes at him, "I'm not though. Why would they think that? I know we kis… but I wouldn't…wouldn't take advantage… I wouldn't!"

Her blabbering was beginning to be annoying but he held her regardless, shushing her and placing her unkempt auburn locks behind her ear.

"Shame," Harry whispered, his hot breath caressing her earlobe, "I think I would quite like you to take advantage of me."

Quickly, Harry dropped his arm around her waist, tightening it, effectively trapping her against his body. She squeaked at his sudden action and looked up to see him smirking. He then made a move to kiss her but Hayley jerked her face back, conscious of Doctor Scott's allegations.

Tutting at her hesitance, Harry used his grip on her chin to move her face closer, "Enjoyed yourself last time didn't you? I doubt one more kiss would jeopardise your career." His tongue darted out and licked Hayley's bottom lips making her moan, "Besides, I think_ I'm_ taking advantage of _you_."

Laughing kindly at her innocence, Harry pressed his lips to hers, feeling a euphoric high at her softness. Feeling her still trying to pull away slightly, he moved his hand to the back of her head, entwining his fingers in her hair to prevent her hesitance.

Briefly breaking the contact, Harry murmured, "I know you want this, Hayley, _give in_."

So she did.

Hayley's heart was aflame with desire, with need; his kiss ensnared her, it made her feel alive for the first time. He was like a drug, the most potent drug she had ever taken, her loneliness and self doubt slowly easing with every caress of his wanting lips. The grip around her body constricted like he could barely believe she was real. Letting her lips part, Hayley felt a rumble of pleasure from his throat when he slipped his tongue over hers; it was the most desirable feeling in the world.

Their heavy breathing echoed in the room with occasional squeaks from Hayley when Harry decided to assert his dominance. Sharp nips on her bottom lip from his harsh teeth made Hayley's head roll back in ecstasy, making her moan his name breathily.

"Harry!"

He chuckled at how quickly she succumbed to his advances, running his free hand down her long neck towards her chest. With the sensation of her porcelain skin causing him to feel aroused, Harry began peppering her neck with soft kisses. It delighted him to hear her breathing stop momentarily in shock before going back to whimpering his name.

"Harry…Harry, we can't…oh, Harry!"

The Goblin was demanding for him to take her, here and now, but Harry had a game plan. Making Hayley go against her professional instincts to fall for him was a delicate situation and had to be handled with class. Running his tongue along her pointy collarbones, Harry marvelled at how tiny and fragile she was in his arms.

"You, are so beautiful, Hayley," he purred against her skin. He smiled and gave her a playful bite when Hayley's hands gripped the front of his jumpsuit in yearning. "You want more don't you?"

"Y…yes."

Pulling away from her body, Harry gripped her chin again so he could look directly into her eyes, "How much more?" He wanted to hear her say it.

However, now that she wasn't being ravished, Hayley's conscience started to kick in. She had crossed a line. No matter how many years went by or if their situation changed, the doctor and patient relationship would always be there.

"Harry, we can't! You're my patient, they'll fire me, I need my job, and I need money for…"

"I need you."

"You need me?"

Harry gripped her face desperately in his hand; she couldn't reject him, not now. "I, _need, _you. I need you, Hayley." And to make sure she wouldn't rebuff him again, Harry forced her into another deep and long wondrous kiss. "You need me too, don't you Hayley?" he asked after a few lip crushing moments.

"Yes…"

"Yes, what?" he demanded.

"Yes Harry, I need you too."

That was all he needed to hear before descending to her shoulder again and overwhelming her senses with more delectable kisses. Hayley responded by rubbing her hands on the base of his neck and massaging her fingers through his floppy hair. The arousal hidden beneath his jumpsuit was starting to ache, spurring Harry's advances further. Moving her flowing hair over one shoulder and away from her neck, Harry began to lick and suck at the skin that was hidden beneath it.

However, something made him stop sharply. Hayley hadn't noticed, but now her hair was no longer on her neck, the scars and irritated broken skin that ran down her spine had been revealed. It was a shock to see such horrible wounds on her snowy skin. Harry could see more clearly the scars on her shoulder blades and upper back that he had spotted when they first met. There was no doubt in his mind that the girl had been burnt. He didn't say anything but stored the information away for later. His attention was brought back to the woman who had now begun to timidly kiss his neck in return.

"Tell me, why do you need more money?" he mused, continuing to touch her shoulder in a soothing way.

Too ashamed to even look at him when she responded, Hayley just stared at the horrible orange jumpsuit that clothed him. "I'm two months behind on my…my rent, and I could be evicted any day now. I don't get paid enough to cover it all…I thought if I got promoted…but he said I would never get a pay rise," she said, humiliated to admit her money issues to a billionaire. "And then my bills have gone up, and then there's food, and medica…and other things…"

"Other things?" Harry questioned, gripping her neck to bring her face to where he could see her. He had an idea of what "other things" meant.

"Please, please don't ask me Harry," she stammered, "Not yet, please, I can't..."

The fear in her eyes stopped Harry from forcing the answer from her. A man of many secrets, he understood that some things were too painful to express, as he too, held onto untold experiences that Hayley would never know. In time she would tell him the whole story, in time, there would be nothing that would be hidden from him.

"Shh doll, don't worry your pretty little head."

"But he threatened me, he said he'd ruin me if I tried to leave…not that I would, I can't leave you here…he said he owned me!" Hayley wailed, "I'm so scared Harry!"

"_I want to fucking kill him! He's dead, Harry, that doctor is fucking DEAD!"_ the Goblin screamed in Harry's head, "_No one owns that girl but US!"_

The soft pads of his thumbs gently removed the new tear droplets that had formed on Hayley's face. His anger was evident in the way his voice shook when he spoke, "Listen to me, if he hurts you, I. Will. Kill. Him."

His exclamation stunned Hayley, reminding her that the green side of him was not completely locked away for good. "What? Harry you can't, that's, that's not you."

"_No, but I can!"_ the Goblin gleefully hummed to Harry.

Grinning in agreement, Harry ignored the girl's protest, bringing her head back to lie on his shoulder. He tenderly held Hayley close, running his free hand softly down her back. Harry then whistled the Jeopardy tune, his strange interpretation of a soothing lullaby.

* * *

The day had been long and draining. From being belittled and ripped apart by the male doctors, to trying to protect Harry, then having her career and life threatened by Doctor Scott. Not to mention confusing but amazing moments with Harry – the auburn nurse was shattered.

Returning to her apartment, Hayley managed to successfully dodge Mr Boothroyd, legging it up the stairs as soon as the handle of his door turned to open. Currently, she was preparing a Pot Noddle, boiling the kettle to soften the hard pasta. It was then that she noticed her second-hand telephone flashing at her; someone had left Hayley a message. Thinking it strange since no one really knew where she lived, Hayley curiously pressed the play button.

"Miss Carmichael, this is a remainder of your appointment with Doctor Jacobi in the burns unit at New York-Presbyterian Hospital at 10am," said the machine in a monotone voice that clearly belonged to a disgruntled secretary.

"Shit!" Hayley moaned whilst she poured the boiled water into her noodle pot.

She had completely forgotten about going to the hospital the next day. At least she had already booked the time off work in advance, but with the drama at Ravencroft recently, her normal life was almost becoming obsolete.

Getting to the hospital meant a very early start and a stifling journey on the subway, which Hayley was not looking forward to at all! Plus, she really hated hospitals. She had done so ever since the accident. Also, Hayley didn't really trust doctors. As a member of the medical community herself, she knew that her view was a tad hypocritical. However, if Doctor Scott was anything to go by, then the majority of consultants were corrupt. Hayley just didn't agree with how cold some nurses and doctors could be to their patients.

Hayley took her food into the bathroom and reached for her stash of stolen medication. Placing the pills and warm noodle pot on the cabinet beside the sink, she reluctantly cast her eyes to her reflection in the mirror.

Her appearance was worse than she had anticipated; bloodshot puffy eyes were obvious against her pale skin, her once glistening hair was tangled and dull, and the strands nearest her neck were caked in blood from the wounds underneath. When she removed her work shirt, Hayley gasped at a large purple bruise surrounded with little red grooves. She touched it carefully, smiling at the memory of Harry biting and licking her shoulder; he had left his mark but it had been worth it. Although Hayley was grinning like a love struck loon, her already raw eyes filled with tears once more.

Sick of constantly crying she rubbed at her sore eyes but still felt distressed at what was reflected in the mirror. More bones on her body had become prominent from her horrendous diet, making her skin appear paler from the lack of nutrients and iron. This sickly pallor caused her burns to seem darker, more red and painful. She was a damaged monster.

How could Harry call her beautiful? It was the one thing that Hayley could not comprehend. All his life, stunning models had surrounded Harry, and yet, he _needed_ her of all people. It truly dumbfounded her.

Filling a glass of water from the tap, Hayley popped her sleeping pills into her mouth along with some extra strong painkillers. She then turned on the shower and removed the remainder of her clothes. Then she felt the drug induced buzz in her veins, a calming haze of nothingness filled her. Climbing into the shower, Hayley let the freezing water cascade over her body, wishing that the icy liquid could wash away her scars.

Then she could be beautiful.

* * *

The next day, Hayley managed to nab a seat on the over packed subway train during the morning work rush. Wearing an oversized baggy jumper was probably not the best of ideas since the heat was beginning to make her feel faint. However Hayley preferred to hide herself under loose-fitting clothes when she wasn't at work, because it meant that she could remain invisible to the Manhattan general public. Although today, her desire to remain unseen did not go to plan.

A few stations away from her stop, she became aware of someone staring at her. The carriage was extremely crowded so Hayley could not be certain but she definitely felt the sensation of being watched. It was only when the train reached the next station and the majority of the people left that Hayley could identify the person.

Grinning from ear to ear, Peter Parker skated down the now clear carriage towards where Hayley sat relatively alone. Peter swerved on his skateboard to miss the central metal poles, before stopping abruptly in front of Hayley, flicking his board with his Converse shoed foot so that it flew into the air. He caught it swiftly and plopped down into the vacant seat next to the petite redhead.

"We, er, really should stop bumping into each other, you know?" Peter spoke softly, trying not to disturb two sleeping commuters opposite them.

"I think you're stalking me Parker," Hayley whispered in jest.

Peter rubbed the back of his neck and ran his hand through his messy hair. "Me? I'm going to work, to The Daily Bugle. You, however, are not going to Ravencroft, as, er, it's like in the opposite direction," he mumbled leaning forward, pretending to scrutinize Hayley, "You're the stalker here Carmichael!"

She rolled her eyes at the use of her surname, "Fine. I give up. I'm following obsessively," Hayley said sarcastically.

"Knew it!" chuckled Peter, "But, in all seriousness, where are you going?" When Hayley flashed him a "non of your beeswax" look, he continued, "You look ill! Just a concerned, er, friend here. Have you been crying?"

Knowing that Peter probably wouldn't stop questioning her, she decided to throw him a small bone, "Just stressed with work is all. And I'm having problems paying my rent…I'm a few months behind."

"Really? That's not, you know, er, good. You could get a evicted right?"

"Mmm, yeah, probably," Hayley murmured, trying to down play the reality of her sticky situation.

An automated voice rang out in the carriage interrupting Peter, "Next stop New York-Presbyterian Hospital. Mind the doors on your departure."

Saved by the bell, Hayley scuttled away from Peter, as the subway train came to a sudden stop. She shouted a hasty goodbye as she exited the carriage, leaping onto the platform, and disappearing from sight into a sea of businessmen and women.

* * *

**WHAT did you think about that then my lovelies? I was mean by leaving the last chapter on a cliff-hanger, but I hope I made up for it with wonderful Harry and Hayley time hehe – is that consider a lemon?**

**Also, don't abuse drugs guys! And even if you have scars and imperfections, you are all beautiful – Harry thinks so too!**

**I apologise for the shortish chapter, I will make up for it in the next one – I had a busy week travelling to my graduation! Exciting I now have a degree AHHHH scary thing guys – my degree was in Fashion Design specialising in accessories, for those interested in knowing :D**

**Oh, and to my Guest reviewer who asked, my update frequency shouldn't be longer than two weeks. I plan to write a chapter a week or more if my creativity allows me. **

**Until next time xxx love and hugs**


	13. Chapter 13

**Featured song: **_Gunshot – _Lykke Li

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**I do not own Marvel, Spider-Man, or any other characters associated with the franchise – just Hayley my OC.**

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Locating the burns unit in New York-Presbyterian Hospital was easy. Even though the building was a labyrinth of sterile rooms and never ending corridors full of numerous staff and sick people, Hayley could find her way through it all in her sleep.

Ever since the accident, she had been in and out of the unit multiple times a year for skin grafts and treatment. However, after five years of intensive therapies, her scars had plateaued, which meant hospital visits only occurred every six months. And even though Hayley knew the outlook for her back might never improve, she could not deny the happiness of spending less time in the unit. She loathed hospitals.

Her consultant, Doctor Jacobi, was already waiting in the reception area; he was a kind man and had been one of the first doctors assigned to her case all those years ago. Initially, he didn't seem to notice her, but a shy little wave from Hayley alerted Jacobi to his patient's arrival. He hid it well, but nonetheless, Hayley noticed the doctor physically recoil, sucking in his breath sharply. Had she changed that much in six months? The doctor probably didn't recognise her because her hair had grown and the dark circles under her eyes made Hayley look older.

Wordlessly, Jacobi turned, motioning for her to follow to his office. Once inside, he sat in his chair whilst Hayley took a seat opposite – they had been through this routine many times before it was like clockwork.

"So, Hayley, how have you been?"

"Not bad thank you," was her standard reply – she wasn't good, she wasn't bad… she was _really_ bad, not that she'd ever admit it to him.

If Jacobi noticed her anxiety, he never let on, "Lets move you to the medical bed and we'll have a look at your back."

Hayley moved reluctantly to the bed, sat down and pulled up the back of her top and jumper – Doctor Jacobi knew that his patient was extremely shy, so always respected her wishes to not remove her clothes during his inspections.

Jacobi noted that the scar tissue hadn't changed much since their last meeting, though he was concerned how irritated the skin was around the spinal area. He identified small cuts and broken skin over each vertebral with the sores becoming more sore and severe nearer Hayley's neck. The scar tissue on her back was very thin due to the burn damage, however Jacobi knew that these sores would not occur if she were to gain a few more pounds.

"I'm going to prescribe a higher strength of the Sliver Sulfadiazine cream you are currently using, which will help with the new wounds and raw scar tissue. Your body must be growing immune to the lower dosage – you're still applying the cream twice a day?"

Hayley thought about the empty tub of cream that lived in the cupboard under her sink – she hadn't replenished it in over a year. "Yes, once morning and night," she lied, trying to give the consultant her best dazzling smile to ensure the deception wasn't obvious.

She tried to channel Harry's air of confidence and unquestionable superiority by straightening her slumped back and forcing herself to make eye contact with Jacobi – no one ever questioned an Osborn on a power trip. Fortunately, Jacobi didn't question her further; he had known the girl since she was a child and had no reason to suspect her of lying.

"I think we should also start you on a course of Co-codamol to ease the physical pain of the new sores. Also, we'll keep you on the same dose of Amitriptyline…"

"Awesome. Thanks Doctor Jacobi…" Hayley jumped up from the medical bed as quickly as possible, eager to escape.

"One last thing Hayley," said Jacobi quickly, "I want to weigh you before you leave."

Thinking nothing of it, she shrugged, removed her shoes and stepped towards the scales.

"Just a minute Hayley, I need to call in a female nurse…" the kind doctor said, hurriedly exiting to find one.

Hayley was slightly concerned but didn't have time to think on it since Jacobi returned shortly with a stern looking nurse.

"If you could remove your jumper, top and trousers, then step on the scales backwards," he sighed reluctantly.

"What? Why?"

"Standard procedure nowadays," explained the new nurse bluntly.

Hayley didn't know what to do. Sure, she had pull up her top earlier so Jacobi could see the new wounds on her back, but this was different. She felt uncomfortable in her skin as it was and getting practically naked was a huge step. No one had seen her unclothed before! If Hayley could barely look at her body then why should anybody else? Besides, she had an uneasy feeling about the situation.

Sensing her reluctance, Jacobi tried to make it easier on his patient. "If you just remove your jumper that will be acceptable," he said rubbing his nose impatiently as the nurse sighed loudly to show her disapproval at his rule bending.

Feeling slightly better, Hayley removed the black baggy jumper, smiling slightly at the faded Metallica logo. The memories of her dragging Gwen to the concert still made her smile, especially as her blonde friend hated the band and dressed in her most preppy outfit to rebel that night. Needless to say, Gwen had stood out like a sore thumb.

"Stand backwards on the scale," reminded the nurse unkindly when Hayley walked onto the apparatus. "Look straight forward and do not look at the scale." Suspecting her patient's confusion, the nurse said with a stiff smile, "Standard procedure."

Jacobi saw the numbers flashing on the scale and shook his head sadly. He didn't like to see Hayley suffering and she had gone through enough in her life as it is. However, she was clearly still hanging on to some monsters.

"That's everything," he said, "If you take these prescription slips down to the Pharmacy you can collect your medication. I'll be sending you some letters about today's findings, and I guess we'll see you in another six months to recheck your back."

"Thanks Doctor Jacobi," Hayley said slipping on her shoes, grabbing her jumper and bag in one hand and taking the medication slips from Jacobi with the other.

She darted out of the room, making her way to the ground floor, dreading arriving at the Pharmacy with every step she took.

* * *

"Declined."

"Oh really? Erm, maybe just try the cream and not the pills?" Hayley asked pathetically, already knowing what the outcome was going to be.

The pharmacist gave the ginger girl in front of her a withering look, before swiping Hayley's debit card through the cash register again. An angry beep echoed in the uncomfortable silence.

"Really declined," smirked the pharmacist – she had no patience for those with money issues.

Hayley retrieved her card quickly, embarrassment flooding her pale face. "Sorry. My, er, my rent must of just come out, and work is always late on paying me," she lied swiftly.

"Right."

"I'll be back next week with the money."

"Sure you will."

Clearly the pharmacist did not believe her; never in her life had Hayley lied so much, well, except about her scars. She didn't like being untruthful but her life was just too difficult for her to handle at the moment. Something Harry kept saying flashed through her mind; "be honest with me". She wished she could be honest, she really did, but what good would it do when no one could help her.

Hayley left the Pharmacy empty handed, knowing that she wouldn't be back. She could steal the pills from Ravencroft - that would be easy. The cream however, was the medication she desperately needed and the one Hayley would never be able to steal or afford.

Her shoulders sagged, and feeling deflated, made her way back to the subway station to return to Ravencroft.

* * *

Harry had been with his lawyer for over an hour and was pleasantly surprised that the man was staying professional in such an unorthodox environment. During his wild party days, Harry's father had employed a personal lawyer to oversee all the legal requirements for his son's illegal misdemeanours. Over the years, Harry and Mr Dave Manners had formed a pretty close professional relationship – as long as Manners was paid, he would protect his client from the worst-case scenarios.

Manners was an Ivy League man who came from a family firm of successful lawyers; his father and three brothers were all established and recognised attorneys and his sister was a debutant – she even had a fling with Harry Osborn. The firm, Manners &amp; Sons, specialised in protecting societies elite and wealthiest, the Osborn's being one of their highest profile clients. Like his brothers, Manners was very tall, six foot, with dark brown hair that he loved to style obsessively. He always wore a three-piece suit, ever the professional in every setting – he was a regular Mr Grey. The dedication that Manners threw into every one of his clients was admirable; he had even travelled to California, Brazil and Europe with Harry to ensure the young billionaire didn't sleep with too many trashy headline-grabbing models.

They had been discussing the legality behind his charges; one count of voluntary manslaughter, murder in the First-degree, and property negligence to the state of New York. After hearing Harry's side of Gwen Stacy's death, Manners was certain that the state judge would change the charges to involuntary manslaughter and Second-degree murder, due the girl's death being unplanned, unintentional, and not premeditated. Once the lesser charges were in place, Manners would claim that Harry Osborn was a victim of circumstance with mitigating circumstances that would lead into their plea of insanity.

The tale Manners would spin in Harry's defence was that the recent death of Mr Osborn had affected the balance of his client's mind. The depression and stress of becoming the CEO of New York's biggest financial empire had caused Harry to suffer a psychotic break. State law meant the murder charges would be dropped and changed to manslaughter on the basis of diminished responsibility due to Harry's mind-set. This personality change had led Mr Osborn to go to Menken for a cure in the form of the untested spider venom at OsCorp industries. When Menken had refused, Harry had drawn a gun in a fit of rage and desperation.

"I have already discussed the matter with Donald Menken, and we have bought his cooperation with the defence trial," Manners informed the young billionaire prisoner. "He has agreed to say that Max Dillon, Electro, threatened himself and you in the offices of OsCorp tower for access to the electric grid. You then became distressed after Electro left and demanded access to the venom – you were watching your father's legacy fall apart."

"And what of my assistance in freeing Electro from Ravencroft?" Harry asked, though he wasn't too worried.

Smiling widely, Manners revealed the next part of his plan. "As you know, Electro killed all witnesses at Ravencroft when you broke him out, and Menken seized the security footage after he left you with the venom. OsCorp now has possession of the tapes, so you as an accomplice to freeing a known criminal will not come up in court."

"Excellent." Harry never doubted Manners abilities for a second – having his own personal lawyer was the one "present" his father had actually got right. Besides, the man was the best, he thought of everything and anything. "Menken's monthly salary will be increased for his cooperation."

"It's been taken care off." Manners then continued to explain the rest of his plan.

Manners had spoken to many of OsCorp's staff during Harry's incarceration, as he wanted to determine how much they knew and whether or not they would be able to stand trial. Harry's personal assistant, Felicia, had seen him after his transformation, and it hadn't taken Manners much effort to convince her to comply with his story. Felicia obviously fancied his client and was eager to help get the charges dropped. On the stand she would say that after discovering Harry in his altered state, she had realised that his mind was unhinged and was scared for his safety. He had then told her that Electro was going to destroy the OsCorp power plant, OsCorPower, and had to stop him – that would give Harry an alibi for his interaction with Spider-Man and Gwen Stacy.

With a concrete alibi, Manners would then explain how Harry was a victim of circumstance. Although he arrived too late to stop Electro, he discovered Gwen Stacy, an employee of his, and carried her on his glider to protect her from the damaged power plant. That was when Spider-Man began to chase him.

The people of New York praised the Spider-Man as a hero, but that had not always been the case. Gwen's own father, the late Police Commissioner, had initially been suspicious of the masked vigilante. And, hadn't Captain Stacy died in the spider's presence? Manners would use Spider-Man's anonymity against him; unable to stand trial and defend himself, the masked man could not dispute Harry's version of events. He would ruin Spider-Man, make him out as a fame hungry, glory-hogging pariah who only cared about the lime light of saving people and not their actual safety. The Spider-Man had chased and hounded Harry so that he would be the one to have saved Gwen from Electro.

"And how will you explain why I dropped her?"

"I have discovered that in the coroner's report, webbing was discovered on Miss Stacy's body, which would explain the whiplash she experienced, along with the head injury that killed her," Manners explained. "Spider-Man used his webbing to pull her body from you – his web was so fine that it wasn't caught on the surrounding news crew's cameras."

Harry smirked at Manners lies; the story they were spinning was almost as strong as a spider's web. Ironically.

"You then tried to help Miss Stacy and that was when the Spider-Man engaged you in a fight inside the clock tower and knocked you out. You _were_ unconscious before she died, correct?"

"Yes!" Harry said earnestly. Sure he may have contributed to Gwen's death, but he had not done the deed himself – he was innocent.

The last strand Manners would weave was the insanity plea. There was enough evidence pointing to his defendant's change in mental health, brought on by his father's death and accelerated by the spider venom. Harry had been unable to determine right from wrong, they would say, the venom destroying his sense of morality and ability to control his actions. He had made the best decisions he could under these exceptional circumstances. Manners had also seen Hayley's medical reports on Harry, even the ones in her supposed locked computer files. Her evaluation of possible schizophrenia would play right into their hands, aiding his defence strategy.

"With the insanity plea, usually the defendant is referred to mandatory clinical treatment until they are certified safe to be released back into the community. Seeing as you have already been confined to Ravencroft, this will aid us in getting you released quickly and permanently," finished Manners, positively beaming with pride at his mastermind plan.

Harry was also smiling, extremely happy with his lawyer, "Very good Manners, very good. You will be rewarded greatly when I am released."

"Thank you Mr Osborn. Though, I must reinforce that by pleading insanity, you will have to undergo psychiatric evaluation. We have the one from Miss Carmichael, but I will need to bring in an additional three psychiatrists to do more reports."

"And what is wrong with Hayley's evaluation?" Harry sneered, his eyes darkening dangerously.

"Nothing at all sir," Manners said quickly, "Its just, can we trust her? She doesn't have the medical standing at Ravencroft to have carried out that report. The three I have found have already been paid, and are experts in their field with the qualifications and their own practises to prove it." Still sensing his client's disdain, Manners continued, "Miss Carmichael may be an excellent therapist, as you have said, but her report and testimony will not hold up in court by itself since she is employed as a nurse."

"Fine," agreed Harry, seeing the lawyer's point. However, they weren't done talking about his therapist yet. "Although Hayley does _not_ need to bought off, I have another matter concerning finances I need you to take care of for me."

"Of course Mr Osborn, is it to do with the girl - "

Manners and Harry quickly stopped talking and turned to see the cell door opening. Both glared angrily at the unseen intruder before softening their gazes upon seeing a flash of copper hair swishing in the doorway.

"Oh! I…I'm so sorry…I didn't realise…" stuttered Hayley, cheeks glowing red at her intrusion.

Getting to his feet, Manners went to shake the girl's hand, "Pleasure to meet you Miss Carmichael. I am Dave Manners, Mr Osborn's lawyer."

"Oh right! Hello, nice to meet you," Hayley spoke, slightly surprised at Doctor Scott's efficiency at allowing Harry to see his lawyer. The pair shook hands, "You can call me Hayley."

"Hayley, be a doll and give use another fifteen minutes," drawled Harry, eyeing the girl strangely, "Besides, I don't think 'Metallica' is what nurses usually wear hmmm?" He chuckled as Hayley glanced down at her clothes in horror – clearly her mind was on other things. "Why don't you change into something a little more appropriate?"

Hayley nodded, slightly dumbfounded at being given a direct order by her patient. The two men watched her leave, stumbling over her feet as she closed the door and left them alone once more.

"Cute," said Manners, "I can see why you like her."

"Mm? Yes, well, she is rather remarkable…" Harry spoke like he was in a haze, still staring at the spot where she had been standing. "Now, back to those finances…"

* * *

Harry stayed in his seat as Manners swanned out of the cell, feeling slightly more at ease knowing that his trial was in good hands.

His time with the lawyer had left him rather tired from all the legal talk, but he perked up when Hayley slipped in after the Manners' departure. Now that she was no longer covered up in that ratty shapeless jumper, he could part take in one of his favourite past times – drinking in Hayley's dainty figure. He looked at her hungrily as she took up the seat opposite him; due to the familiarity between Manners and Harry, the chairs were closer to each other than usual. However Hayley made not move to change their close proximity, and Harry took it as a sign that she was growing more comfortable around him.

"So, where were you Metallica? In a mosh pit?"

"I think I preferred it when you called me Ginge."

"_I'd_ rather call you by your name. It suits a beautiful woman like yourself…Hayley." Harry watched the girl flutter her eyelashes shyly and shift uncomfortably in her seat at the compliment, "As much fun as it was seeing Manners, I did wonder where you were. Missing our usual time, not like you at all."

"Sorry, I had a…er…an appointment at the…the bank," Hayley lied, avoiding those narrowed suspicious blue eyes.

Harry crossed his arm over his chest and flipped the hair out of his eyes in a nonchalant manner, "Oh? Cheryl mentioned that you were at the hospital. I was _so _worried about you doll."

Caught in her lie, Hayley didn't know where to look; she may have just destroyed the little trust Harry did have in her. "Well, er, yes I _was_ at the hospital, but I went to the bank first," she said trying to salvage the situation.

He smirked at her pathetic lies. "Why _were_ you at the hospital?" Harry asked, straight to the point as always.

"Standard check-up…for…er…for women stuff!"

"Of course," his smile waning slightly in annoyance at her persistent lying, "I do worry about you, you know. Especially with Kinsey."

"Kinsey? My patient Kinsey? What about him?"

"I don't like how he looks at you."

"How he looks at me?" Hayley spluttered.

"_No_ man should look at a woman like _that_," Harry enforced sternly.

"What about the way you look at me?"

Leaning forward in his chair, Harry put a hand on her knee darkly, "Do you not like how _I_ look at you?"

"Sometimes." When the hand on her knee tightened, Hayley squeaked, "I mean, it's just, no one's looked at me like that before, like…"

"Like they want you?"

Hayley's eyes widened at the truth behind his bold words, which only made him smile further, running his hand slightly higher up her leg.

"Only_ I_ look at you like this, Hayley," Harry murmured, skimming his other hand up to her neck to cup her jaw, "Only I want you...I _need _you."

Staring into her eyes to make sure that she knew the difference between sincere want and murderous lust, Harry took her lips in a predatory kiss. They tasted like honey, sweet and erotic in their blatant hesitant innocence. The way she trembled beneath his lips was a euphoric feeling that could only be compared to the high he got from taking cocaine. Hayley was his substance, his poison, and his drug.

Their position was slightly awkward, both sitting opposite each other on chairs. He wanted her closer, wanted to feel her fragility in his arms. Wasting no time, Harry placed both hands behind her lower back, gripping her steadily, and pulled her towards him, hard. Her surprise at his dominance resulted in a high-pitched squeal that only made Harry smirk and chuckle at her virtue. With Hayley now on his lap and straddling his legs, Harry continued his assault on her kissable lips. He was certain that she could feel how hard he'd become beneath his clothes.

Hayley never knew how they got to these moments, only that she never wanted them to end. She adored how Harry would hold onto her hair as they kissed, wrapping his fingers in her auburn ponytail. It allowed him to guide the intensity of the kiss, something that inexperienced Hayley was grateful for because she had no idea where to place herself. When she followed suit and began to grip tufts of his floppy hair, Harry let out a guttural moan before tugging at Hayley's ponytail again. She thought she'd done something wrong, but all Harry wanted was to slip his tongue into that pure mouth when she gasped at his dominance.

When their lips finally broke away from each other they were both breathing heavily.

Harry leaned his head against her forehead and held her tightly so she couldn't leave him even if she wanted to. "You're light as a feather. If I wasn't holding you, you'd float away…" he whispered.

He waited for the girl to respond but when nothing other than her shallow breathing could be heard, something inside him switched. Yanking her ponytail with force, Harry ensnared her body closer to his, crushingly wrapping his arm further around her dainty waist.

"Ow! Harry you're hurting me…"

"You want to leave me don't you? I can see it your eyes, you'd rather float away than stay here with me!" Harry snarled, staring down darkly at her horrified expression as he continued to pull her head back at a painful angle. "Your going to leave me like everyone else! I saw how Kinsey looked at you…"

Seizing her chance, Hayley tried to take control of the situation, "How…how does Kinsey look at me? Harry, how does he look at me?"

"Like he wants to hurt you."

"But _you_ don't want to hurt me though Harry," Hayley said softly, her voice cracking slightly due to her fear. She removed her hands from their stiff grip on his shoulders and gently began to stroke his face, "I need you Harry, and you…you understand me. You wouldn't hurt me, right Harry?"

Hayley felt the hold on her hair and waist slacken, and took the opportunity to slowly right her head to its natural and less painful position. Her fingers continued to caress his slightly rough face, hoping her touch would sooth him. Harry stilled and closed his eyes in bliss, though his brow furrowed, alerting Hayley to his indecisive mind.

"I won't ever leave you Harry. I won't hurt you, I promise," she said honestly, hoping to get through to him with her sincerity.

Nothing.

No response.

Sometimes actions spoke louder than words.

Turning her soft caress into a firmer clasp, Hayley held Harry's face in her small hands. And when his eyes remained closed, she decided to do something that frightened her more than his anger. With all the courage she could muster, Hayley pressed her lips to his, initiating a kiss for the first time. She moved them delicately trying to coax a response from Harry. Hayley knew she'd have to be bolder so slowly dragged her tongue over the grooves in his bottom lip before softly nibbling the plump skin.

That ignited a spark deep inside Harry. He attacked her lips with renewed vigour, groaning deeply, clutching at the back of her neck to deepen the kiss.

An outside knock from Colin made the pair freeze, their session time together over.

"I will never leave you Harry," she said, untangling her body from his.

She gave him a small shy peck before smoothing out the creases in her clothes and tidying her hair.

When she reached the door, Hayley turned, "I will never truly leave you."

After the door closed and his therapist had left, Harry remained sitting in the chair, marvelling at what had just transpired. Sure, they hadn't talked about his "feelings" in this session, but he much preferred their other activities.

He smiled, a true childlike smile, barren of the Osborn superior persona; for the first time in his life Harry no longer felt alone.

* * *

Another long day full of mixed and strange emotions, Hayley was quickly realising that ever since she had met Harry Osborn, her life had changed. No more was she a wallflower, a shy hidden mouse, a blip on people's radars. She had become an important central part to somebody's life. Someone relied on her. It was an unusual feeling, one with weighted responsibility, but it some how made Hayley feel good.

She now had a purpose.

Once again, Hayley dodged Mr Boothroyd, racing up five flights to escape her landlord's justified persistent demands for her overdue rent. After her card decline at the hospital, she was dead certain that her bank account did not have the necessary funds to pay the old man. It scared her, as Hayley knew that Mr Boothroyd had every right to call the authorities and evict her for evading payment for so long.

She shrugged of her Metallica jumper and threw it on the moth-eaten sofa along with her handbag. The bag rattled, a reminder of the stolen pills she had managed to snatch after meeting Harry's lawyer. Her crimes were always done with the best intentions but that didn't mean they were right.

A heavy knock rattled the door. If Mr Boothroyd had made the long climb up to her apartment then it must be serious.

_Shit,_ Hayley thought bitterly.

Her deceptions couldn't last forever.

Slowly opening the door, Hayley plastered a false smile onto her face and began to plead with the old man, "I'm so, so, _so_ sorry Mr Boothroyd, I know I still haven't paid you…"

"Calm dear, calm down," the landlord said kindly, "Your rent has been take care of."

"What?!"

"A young man came to see me and provided me with a cheque for your outstanding rent."

"What? Who?" Hayley started to freak out – this was amazing, a dream come true, but everything comes with a price right? Nothing is free.

"The young man wished to remain anonymous, but he was tall with brown ruffled hair…he said he was a friend," Mr Boothroyd explained.

He too was surprised at the generosity of the mysterious man, however he understood that his tenant was struggling and really didn't want to evict her. So, he had asked no questions and took the payment gratefully.

"Well, now that that's been taken care of, I thought you should know that there have been some muggings this past week. Two of my tenants on the lower floors have had their apartments broken into. So be careful dear," the old man warned before slowly leaving down the stairs.

Hayley felt like she was going to faint, the landlord's cautionary tale falling on deaf ears. The shock of knowing that some wonderful person had paid her rent debts made her want to weep in happiness.

Shutting the door and sliding to the floor in astonishment, Hayley could only think of one name, one person, one _friend_ who could possibly be the mystery benefactor;

Peter Parker.

* * *

**DUN DUN DUUUUNNNN!**

**I did a lot of research for the section with Harry's lawyer – the laws for murder are different in the UK, you're innocent until proven guilty unlike the US, so I made sure to get that part as accurate as I could. Hope you enjoyed it! We've got to get Harry out of Ravencroft!**

**Also, because I'm from the UK, I find it crazy that people have to pay for healthcare in the US and other countries! Like seriously it's terrible :( - in the UK, everything to an extent is free on the NHS! I have a medical condition and, if I had to pay for all my treatment and medication, it would be ridiculous! It makes me sad that some people cannot get the treatment they deserve like Hayley.**

**Hope you enjoyed this chapter my lovelies, all your reviews make me smile and I feel literally amazing when I read them so maybe…. more reviews? I love hearing your reactions and takes on what is happening or what might happen in the story – you all inspire me so much :3**


	14. Chapter 14

**I do not own Marvel, Spider-Man, or any other characters associated with the franchise – just my plot, other OC's, and my main girl Hayley.**

* * *

Harry was laid on his bed with an arm and a leg draped over the edge, relaxing expectantly in the few minutes before Hayley was due to arrive.

He'd had a wonderful nights sleep, the best he'd had in ages, even with the aid of sleeping pills! Gone were the nightmares that usually plagued him. Not once had he dreamt of green flashes followed by excruciating pain, of metallic gears ticking and rotating with a piercing scream echoing through the haziness of sleep. Instead, the horrors were replaced with something far more desirable.

Hayley.

What attracted him the most to his little ginger doll was her innocence. Everything about her was purely angelic and unspoilt; her emerald doe eyes never failed to capture his attention, enticing the predator within. Her hair was another aspect that had him licking his lips in lust. Soft auburn gold strands that set his world alight. She held an authoritative internal fire when in psychiatrist mode and it was something Harry liked to not only see, but to control.

The passion in her conviction was highly attractive in a woman so meek – Harry wanted to grip that ponytail and tug at it as he took her.

His eyes rolled back, lids closing, as he stifled a wanting groan whilst running his hands through his floppy hair. The image of her slender porcelain body writhing under his was a dream that Harry never wanted to wake from. He let out a shaky breath feeling his body heat up and tingle just thinking about the little mewls and moans his dream girl had uttered into his ears. The fabric of his jumpsuit tightened precariously around his hips. If the young nurse weren't about to enter any minute now, then Harry would easily indulge himself, shamelessly giving over to the wondrous electricity that pulsed in his nether region.

It was going to be pretty obvious that he was aroused. Maybe he should just sooth his needs?

Harry lowered a hand, rubbing himself to try and bring momentary relief to the prominent ache. How he longed to have Hayley's delicate hands clasp his shaft, to have her be the only woman responsible for his sexual pleasure. And his need for her was only growing.

The room was becoming stifling with the tension from Harry's unreleased angst, and he was so focused on his dirty thoughts, that he nearly didn't hear the door opening. With lightening speed Harry sat up and crossed his legs to conceal his bugle, just as Hayley peaked her head into the room.

"Morning!" she chirped, an award winning smile radiating happiness on her bright face.

Harry noticed that the bags under her eyes had lessened – she also had a good night sleep it seemed.

He followed her movements closely as Hayley pulled her chair towards his bed. The slight curve of her behind nearly made him sigh hotly out loud. Harry squirmed uneasily where he sat, having to fight the carnal response of his body at seeing Hayley in an uncharacteristic skirt. Normally she drowned her figure in those large suit trousers but today was an exception it seemed. Today she had made an effort. And Harry smirked, confident this change was entirely his influence.

"You look chipper this morning," he observed behind desire-laden eyes, "To what do I owe the _pleasure _of seeing you brighten up my room like this?"

Sitting down, Hayley tucked a stray reddish wisp behind her ear, her hair in a polished ballerina bun instead of its usual up do. "Oh? I just realised that there are good people in this world after all…" she mused whimsically.

The smirk on Harry's face turned into a charming toothy grin, "Care to elaborate?" When Hayley shook her head, his smile wavered and the once longing filled eyes become narrowed and annoyed, "And _why_ not?"

"We only have thirty minutes in our session today. Manners demanded a last minute visit, so that is eating into my time with you," Hayley said flicking open her notebook, not noticing the sudden change in her patient's demeanour.

Harry folded his arms, somewhat irritated at Manners for taking precious time away from being with his only joy in this god-forsaken place. Though, he knew that if his lawyer was _that _eager to speak to him then it must be an emergency. It better be something good or Harry would be pissed.

"Manners has briefed me on some of the topics that might come up in court, so, I think we should address these during our session," Hayley explained. "Today I wanted to talk more about your past history with drug and alcohol abuse."

"Why?" Harry asked bluntly, lying back down on his bed now that his desire for her had vanished.

Hayley swallowed thickly as she recognised the signs of Harry shutting himself off from the current situation – questioning him would be like getting blood out of a stone. Impossible.

"Manners…"

"MANNERS!" Harry shouted, jealousy rearing its ugly head, "Is he all you have to talk about?" He stood quickly shaking with fresh anger, "I _thought _you were here for _me?_ NOT to talk about my lawyer! Is _that _why you're dressed like a common whore with your short skirt and hair in that stupid prissy bun? Trying to flirt with my lawyer aren't you? AREN'T YOU?"

"Harry will you please sit down," Hayley spoke quietly, trying to stay disconnected and control her emotional reactions to his unkind goading.

"WHY? Why should_ I SIT DOWN, _when you are _clearly _not here for me?"

Taking two pill packets and a small plastic cup out of her lab coat, Hayley calmly presented the objects to Harry's agitated form, "Because it's time to take your medication Harry."

He grumbled at the provided evidence that Hayley was indeed here to treat him.

Like a sulking child, Harry sat heavily back on his bed, looking anywhere but at her. It annoyed him how she was always right, that he had acted like a spoilt rich brat when she made him feel like so much more. Harry decided to blame his brash rudeness on the Goblin, who had been internally cursing Manners continuously throughout his little outburst.

He only dared a glance at Hayley when she retreated to the sink to fill the plastic cup with water. Harry instantly began to regret his words when the girl tugged her skirt lower down her legs. If he was being completely honest with himself, Hayley looked the best he'd ever seen her; the skirt wasn't _that_ short, it fell around her knees, hugging her slender legs due to its body contouring design. It was a garment Harry never expected her to wear. He imagined once, that if she did possess a skirt, then it would be a baggy pinstripe suit skirt with a small slit up the back. However, Harry much preferred this fashion choice to his own musings, even though she had now pulled the hem down to her calves.

Giving the cup and two tablets to her patient, Hayley tried to keep her voice light and her smile from cracking, "So, if you don't want to discuss _that_, what would you like to talk about?"

Eyeing her suspiciously, Harry gulped down the little pills, shoving the drained cup into her outstretched hand. He waited for her to take a seat before responding, "This medication you give me, why is it that only _you_ give them to me?"

"I'm sorry I don't follow you," Hayley said uneasily, shifting uncomfortably under his judgemental gaze.

This was not a subject that she had ever hoped to discuss with Harry, knowing that giving him unauthorised medication on the sly was a criminal offence. She nervously rearranged the loose hair around her face.

Harry could tell he'd struck a nerve and uncovered something extremely interesting about his little therapist. What, he could not say, but he was determined to find out.

"You were gone three days for that bastard's retrial - "

"Kinsey?" Hayley interrupted.

Nodding in confirmation, Harry continued, " - and _no one_ gave me my daily medication, bar Peroxide girl in the evening." His eyes searched her face for any noticeable signs of falsehood – her jaw was set and her chest had traces of red blush.

"There…er…they must have forgot. Ravencroft was so chaotic that week with Kinsey and the courts, it must have slipped my cover's mind…" Hayley tried to lie smoothly.

"I guess it_ must _have," Harry said steadily, his suspicious observations causing him to barely blink.

The small controlled sigh of relief that slowly left Hayley's pursed lips did not go unnoticed by Harry.

"And may I ask what are these drugs that I am being _forced_ to take?"

Knowing how he hated to be lied to and kept in the dark, Hayley decided it would do more good than harm to divulge him. "At night you take Amitriptyline, an antidepressant that also combats insomnia, to help you sleep. In our sessions I give you Co-codamol and Quetiapine. The former is an analgesic to provide you with bodily pain relief."

"And Quetiapine?"

Hayley tried to keep her face neutral and not display any trace of the lie she was about to tell. "It's a…a…mood stabiliser," she said evenly.

Strictly, there was some truth in her words. Quetiapine did ease and stabilise the symptoms of mood disorders with its prolonged-release chemical construction. She had just neglected to inform him that the drug was an anti-psychotic. And that he was taking it to supress the schizophrenic appearances of the Goblin. Hayley was certain that he would not be happy to learn about her diagnosis.

A light rapping on the door, different from Colin's usual fist banging, caused the pair to ignore their minor quarrel momentarily, and turn to greet their new guest.

Dave Manners strolled inside wearing a dark grey suit, garnet tie and a crisp white shirt. He held a bulging manila folder stuffed with important legal documents and a monogramed black Mulberry briefcase in his other hand. With the toe of his over polished shoe, Manners kept the door open for Hayley to exit after pleasantries had been exchanged.

"Morning Mr Osborn, Miss Carmichael. You are looking very beautiful today Miss Carmichael, your hair is quite wonderful in that style," said Manners warmly, nodding to the both of them. He noticed Harry glaring at him intensely.

Trying to conceal a small smile at the compliment, conscious of Harry's raging jealousy a few moments ago, Hayley stood from her chair. "Thank you Mr Manners, you are too kind," she spoke softly, "I'll see you tomorrow normal time Harry."

Just as Hayley made a move towards the door, Harry shot out his hand, grabbing her wrist roughly. The sudden movement cause her to yelp but she held her ground and did not sway from where she stood.

Harry's grip tightened to make sure that his therapist was paying close attention, "_I_ like your hair in a ponytail." His voice was quiet so only she could hear, but it did not disguise his irritation at her change in style. "_Never, _wear it like this again," he warned darkly.

A timid nod of the head told Harry that she had understood his request and he released her wrist, offering her a charming grin as a reward.

Manners gave Hayley a reassuring smile as she rushed out of the room, noting that her beautiful eyes seemed glassy with tears. Shutting the door behind her, the lawyer sighed and shook his head in disbelief at his client's behaviour. He walked over to Harry and leisurely rested on the chair that Hayley had previously occupied.

"This better be good Manners" Harry sneered hotly, "I thought you'd know better than to disturb my very _limited_ time with Hayley."

"This, with the girl, it needs to stop," Manners said sharply, not one to beat around the bush.

Harry leaned forward and placed his hands on his knees, green anger coursing threw his veins; "_Excuse me_?"

Feeling the air shift dangerously between them, Manners straightened in his seat, cutting a tall impressive figure compared to Harry. One thing that the Manners' boys all had in common was their imposing height of six foot. His father stressed that presentation in a Law career was key and that his sons should use their god given height to intimidate witnesses during interrogation.

"I managed to put a tap Doctor Scott's phone," the lawyer spoke gravely, "As he is on the side of the prosecution to keep you in Ravencroft. In doing so, I have uncovered some alarming news that could sway the court _out _of our favour."

"And my relations with Hayley is involved in this how?"

"Erotic transference. It is a psychotherapy term for when a patient falls in love with their psychiatrist or the other way round. Scott is convinced that Hayley is sleeping with you to further her medical career," Manners explained. He sat back in his chair, mirroring Harry's own relaxed pose now that he was listening to the lawyer intently. "The prosecution will use this claim as one of their main attacks against you. They will say that your rehabilitation is a farce and obsolete due to Hayley's medical negligence at engaging in a relationship with you. This could destroy all our plans! This thing with Hayley, it has to end now!"

"You can't tell me what to do! I, pay,_ you_! You are not my father," Harry shouted before jumping up to try and gain a prominent height advantage.

"God damn it Harry, stop acting so childish!" retorted Manners, standing also. "As one professional to another, I am trying to protect you from permanent incarceration! You saw how they treated Max Dillon when he was here, how long before they do that to you? How long before Scott tires of waiting to torture you? Hayley can only hold them off for so long! If the prosecution wins, then you will be locked up in here forever and Hayley will loose her job! She will be sent to federal prison for becoming involved with you. Do you want that? Do you? Right now,_ I,_ am your best bet of getting out of here."

Harry clapped slowly, not in a mocking manner, but more in friendly banter. "And that, Manners, is why you are my lawyer," he said whilst sitting back down.

Following suit, Manners took his own seat and loosened his tie, "And I'm a damn good one at that."

There was a pause.

"Fine. What do I have to do?" Harry asked sighing reluctantly, rubbing the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

"You'll have to flirt with the other nurses," Manners revealed cautiously. Seeing Harry's eyes flash and widen at the request, he quickly continued, "Give them the old Osborn charm. Then we can prove that you're just the ladies man everyone knows you to be. And, it will get Scott off Hayley's back! Flirt with the girls and have some fun."

"Even Peroxide Cheryl?"

"Hey, come on, she isn't_ that_ bad. Pretty laugh, _great_ rack…" Manners mused.

"Why don't you fuck her then if she's so great?"

"I think I will when this is all over."

"She laughs like a horse Manners."

"She'll be squealing like a pig when I've had my way with her."

The two men chuckled and smirked at each other, both imagining their selected conquests in the bedroom.

"Did you at least sort out Hayley's impending financial issues?" asked Harry. He may have to cool off his need for Hayley, but he was still anxious about the arrangement Manners had made regarding her rent.

"I did indeed. I also took the liberty of reading her medical files."

"Oh?"

"I shall bring them next week and we will discuss it further then."

"Why not now"

"Look, Harry, if we don't get you released then you'll never get Hayley. More concentration on your trial would be greatly appreciated," Manners chastised gently. "Anyway, I've been in contact with a man called Gustav Fiers, and he has expressed an interest in meeting you…"

* * *

Another week had passed at Ravencroft and Hayley was growing used to seeing the enigmatic lawyer roaming the hallways.

Manners had a meeting with Harry every other day to discuss the upcoming trial, and Doctor Scott had even been kind enough to arrange the lawyer's consultations _before_ her own sessions with Harry. Hayley was certain there was a hidden motive behind the doctor's sudden leniency. As it was, she had her own scheduled gatherings with the doctor, weekly, so he could grill her on Harry's psychological progress. Even though Scott had taken an interest in her field of work and requested her therapy reports, it didn't stop him for intimidating and belittling her. He had become less polished and collected with each passing day due to the stress of having the institution under scrutiny, as Harry's national trial quickly approached. The doctor often stalked the various wings and corridors to take his anger out on unsuspecting staff.

Harry himself had become more relaxed and less sprung in comparison to the rest of Ravencroft. He seemed to relish the attention and drama his crimes had caused, Hayley often noted.

Together, they were steadily working through the list of subjects, provided by Manners, which may be brought up during the trial. Some topics they discussed in great lengths whilst others not so much. Sometimes his mood changed depending on what Manners would inform him about the trial but otherwise all was fine. Hayley had seen a vast improvement in Harry's ability to talk about memories that caused him discomfort. He was emerging out of his rich boy persona, becoming more vulnerable and, in his eyes, weak.

However, Hayley only saw this change in him during their therapy. She had heard rumours from the other nurses of Harry openly flirting with the younger women staff. Maybe the flirting was down to being around Manners again, who was a big flirt. Manners probably made him feel more normal, less like the monster New York knew him to be – the lawyer reminded him of his former life of rich kid normalcy.

It appeared to everyone that he was becoming the old Harry Osborn whose wild antics were published in the papers, but Hayley knew different, She saw him in a different light. He only exposed parts of his soul to _her_, and it made Hayley feel oddly honoured that he had chosen her as a confidant. She ignored the staff gossip but could not deny feeling a twinge of something in her gut every time a new rumour was whispered. In some ways, Harry had become more professional, and they hadn't had any physical contact since their last heated kiss. The only nice thing he had said to her this week was commenting on her hair being back in a pony. And even then, his conviction was weak.

She tried to reason with herself that it was probably for the best that their relationship dynamic had become less platonic and more of a therapist and patient. Especially with Doctor Scott's erotic transference threat constantly weighing on her mind. Hayley couldn't loose her job. Sure she was in a better position financially due to her rent debts being paid, but this sudden stability would not last. She would have to thank Peter for his generosity – it was above and beyond the call of friendship.

Hayley hurried towards the West wing entrance, ten minutes late for her session, because of delays on the subway. She clocked the tall silhouette of Manners standing idly a few feet from Room 136. From far away, the lawyer seemed alone, as his stature concealed any person standing directly in front of him. About to call out to him, Hayley stopped herself and rolled her eyes at hearing a piercing horsey laugh echoing in the hallway.

_Ergh, Cheryl is here,_ Hayley thought disdainfully.

As she closed the gap between herself, Manners and Cheryl, she caught a snippet of what they were saying.

"… my nails look lush right Dave? Did I tell you your client practically broke my hand?! But apparently I'm not _worthy_ enough or something…" Cheryl whined clutching at Manner's arm, showing off her newly polished nails to the lawyer who barely gave them a second glance.

"My dear, you are most beautiful, and I think my client only meant that the only _worthy _candidates of enduring his wrath would be those he deemed ugly and unsightly," Manners reassured the girl, gliding his unoccupied hand down her makeup caked face. "Why would anyone want to harm a beauty such as yourself? No, only those who are worthy of harm shall receive it."

It felt like a slap in the face. Hayley felt stupid to think that she even believed for a minute the Goblin's lies, and that being worthy to him meant that she was special. Her face flooded red and her eyes grew damp as Cheryl noticed her watchful presence.

"Hi _Haley_… how's the hand?" the peroxide girl asked nastily, her unkind eyes darting to Hayley's still wrapped fingers.

Not bothering to respond, the redhead stomped past the attractive pair, completely blanking Manners, and walked into the cell without saying a single word.

With the door now closed firmly behind her, Hayley closed her eyes and counted to ten, trying to keep her breathing steady. She would hold her resolve; she would not let these rumours and nastiness get to her. Truthfully, Hayley was stumped as to why it was affecting her this much. Probably the stress of Harry's trial, she reasoned with herself, everyone had been acting strange lately.

As usual, Harry was perched on his bed, sitting cross-legged, leafing through a manila file thoughtfully. He looked up at Hayley who was still calming herself by the door. Slowly, he closed the file and slipped it under his pillow, eyeing his therapist carefully. Her sudden presence was unexpected due to her lateness, as he had assumed that she wasn't coming. Harry was always careful not to show that Manners was leaving him files and papers because it was probably not Ravencroft policy.

Of course, Hayley had noticed the odd object, the cream colour standing out in the gloomy cell.

"I…I won't tell anyone," she said cautiously and sat on her chair like normal.

"See that you don't," Harry said in a clipped tone.

His posture would suggest that his current mood was open and childlike, however his face displayed a very different emotion. He looked pissed off, annoyed and irritated. Hayley had to wonder what Manners had been discussing with him earlier, or whether this frostiness was her doing at having discovered the secret folder. Or maybe Harry just hated that she was late.

They went through the usual routine of Harry taking his medication, though Hayley did notice how he tried not to touch her hand throughout the entire exchange. He wasn't even making eye contact, so much so, that Harry dropped the smaller pill because he wasn't paying proper attention.

Quickly administering him a new pill, Hayley tried to catch his eye, offering him small smile and a tiny laugh when the first pill had rolled under his bed, out of sight. Harry was being uncharacteristically unresponsive. And it had her worried.

Hayley adjusted herself in her chair, smoothing out the creases in her trousers and opened her notebook to officially begin the session.

"Now, no doubt your relationship with Gwen Stacy will come up in court, so today we should talk about her and some of the other witnesses that may be called to the stand," Hayley explained.

On the lined paper in her lap was a list of four names, two of which she knew were going to cause a reaction. Hopefully Harry wouldn't go too crazy. Hopefully she would not entice the Goblin back from submission.

"So, in your own words, please could you explain your relationship with Gwen Stacy."

"I met her one day in OsCorp's elevator."

"And…what did you talk about?"

"I introduced myself, naturally. She was a researcher in one of the labs."

His answers were short and gave very little away, especially since Harry kept his voice monotone and steady. Talking about Gwen actually made him very uncomfortable, not that Hayley could tell. Harry knew that he hadn't actually killed the girl but he did feel _slightly_ responsible. Only a tiny bit.

"How did you know her?"

"She was one of my employees," Harry stated.

"Yes I know, but I'm sure you don't know the names of _every_ employee in OsCorp."

Hayley already knew how Harry had been introduced to Gwen, and was really trying to coax him into discussing Peter; a subject she knew held some tension.

"She was the girlfriend of a_ former_ friend."

"Former?"

"Yes! Former!" Harry said through gritted teeth, his fists clenching, "Keep up Hayley!"

Not wanting to press him by mentioning Peter's name just yet, Hayley moved onto the second name on her list, "Felicia Hardy. She's another one of your staff, correct?"

"My personal assistant _actually_."

"Very young to be in such a position of power, wouldn't you agree?"

"That may be, but she is a fantastic assistant, very dedicated to myself and OsCorp…"

"So would you say you trust her?"

"I do completely," smirked Harry "Easy on the eyes too. Met her yet Hayley? I think you'd like her a lot. Very polished and smartly dressed…stunning for a brunette, not boring at all. On your way out, tell Manners that I'd like to set up a meeting with Felicia."

Hayley bristled in her seat but made a note of the request, "If you're allowed more visitors. Anyway, our session isn't over just yet, we have ten minutes left."

"Yes, well, _do_ make sure you tell Manners."

She sighed but tried to keep her annoyance under control. In her mind, Hayley questioned why he would even want to see her? What was the purpose? What did Felicia mean to Harry Osborn? Hayley scribbled down a few more detailed notes before moving onto the third name that was sure to get his blood boiling.

"Now, lets talk about Spider-Man…"

"No. We are not talking about _him!"_

"Harry," she sighed in frustration, "He will come up in court. You will be asked about him, about the fight, and if you know him…"

"Know him? KNOW HIM? Why would I _know HIM?_" Harry shouted, uncrossing his legs and stamping his feet on the ground, "If, you are STUPID enough to actually believe that I KNOW Spider-Man, then you are more idiotic than I thought you were."

"But…"

"You're right though, I do know him," Harry admitted, noticing how the girls eyes widened a little at the admission, "I know what he truly is, what type of man lies behind the mask – a FRAUD!"

Growing slightly concerned at his predictable rage, Hayley decided to change tact and mention the final name, to see what he'd reveal now that he was riled up. "And how do you feel about Peter Parker?"

"Parker? PARKER! You DARE mention his name in front of me?"

"I'm just trying to understand your mind Harry," she tried gently, "I'm having difficulty understanding how he is, in your words, a "former" friend. I mean, he's a nice guy, and…"

"NICE? HA! You really are deluded if you think that! He will betray you like he did me, mark my words Hayley, it's only a matter of time. He is NOT your friend, you only think he is. I forbid you to see him, do you understand me? He CANNOT be trusted. He is a fraud! Parker, he only thinks of himself…"

Hayley had had enough.

Standing up, seething, she countered, "How dare you! Peter has been a wonderful friend _ever_ since _you_ took Gwen from me! Peter is kind and giving, I mean he paid my rent! Now, if that's not a good friend…."

Harry felt like a bucket of ice had been poured over him.

"GET OUT!" he yelled snapping to his feet, "Get. The. Fuck. Out. Of. Here!" When the redhead tried to calm him, Harry grabbed hold of both her shoulders and shook her viciously, "You have absolutely no idea what is going on do you? You are just some stupid insignificant girl!"

"Harry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean…"

"Just get out. I don't even want to look at you," he replied quietly though his voice continued to shake with venom. He shoved her in the direction of the door.

"I'm sorry, Harry, but you are wrong about him…"

Grabbing the closest thing near him, the chair, Harry threw it at Hayley who barley ducked in time to avoid it. She stood staring at him in shock, not really understanding how the situation had gone down hill so quickly. It was only when the chair clattered on the wall behind that she came to her senses.

"I thought you said if you ever threw a chair at me again you wouldn't miss!" Hayley hissed evenly.

"_Maybe I didn't," _he growled, his piercing eyes now clouding green.

They were back to square one.

* * *

**Guys! How awesome are you all?! I think I've got you hooked haha thank you all for the lovely responses to the smut sections (does that sound weird?) – this story is my first time ever writing smut so yay that you love it! Some Harry POV dream deliciousness for you all to enjoy! **

**All my new readers and guests, Sam, Amy, and Codfish, thank you for reviewing it means so much to me, and also to my faithful reviewers, I love hearing from you too it makes me so happy to share this journey together! Your responses to chapter 13 were overwhelming – think the perv in all of us needs Harry to be released ASAP!**

**Theories theories theories guys, you are all so amazing at imagining what's going to happen and it's nice that my story makes you all that excited! Hopefully I still have a few surprises up my sleeve!**

**Also, one lovely Guest asked for Manners likeness, and another Guest said they imagined him as Michael Fassbender – I'm going with that! Fassbender fits perfectly as Manners, especially as I only imagined key features when writing his character, so brownie points and love to that Guest's suggestion – full credit for Manners face (lol) goes to you :D**

**Sorry this update is later than I would have liked – I burnt my fingers on my straighteners so couldn't type for a while :(**

**LOVE you all xxx please rate &amp; review**


	15. Chapter 15

**I do not own Marvel, Spider-Man, or any other characters associated with the franchise (be cool if I did though!) – just my plot, story OC's, and my main girl Hayley.**

* * *

Manners had gone in to calm Harry down at her request after Colin seemed too excited at the prospect of restraining the young billionaire. Hayley had returned to the Nurse's station after standing outside his cell, listening to Harry, no, the Goblin, cursing and calling her every name under the sun for a good fifteen minutes. The lawyer had managed to quieten his outburst but had prevented Hayley from re-entering the room – the Goblin was too enraged.

She had tried to distract herself all day by immersing her mind in writing reports on her other patients and organising their treatment plans. Hayley had even stayed later than her usual shift time because she was too scared to leave in case Harry might change his mind and ask for her. She could still see those green rage filled eyes glaring at her. Eyes that had once looked at her like she was beautiful, like she was needed, now haunted her in the dark as she walked home from the nearest subway station. It was like Hayley's subconscious didn't want her to forget the devastated and betrayed anguish that Harry had displayed before throwing the chair. If only she knew why he had reacted that way, then maybe her mind would stop imagining his eyes following her.

She quickened her pace, drawing closer to her apartment.

A block away from the apartment complex, Hayley noticed five cop cars race by, their blue lights brightening the dark gloomy alleyways surrounding her. It had obviously rained during the day because when the final car sped past, it drenched her legs in a puddle of water. This day was just getting worse and worse.

Hayley moved her hand inside her handbag to locate her keys, fingers brushing against Harry's case notebook. Manners had returned it to her an hour after she had fled Room 136, since she had forgot the book during the violent kerfuffle. It was nice that Manners had given back her property but he hadn't spoken a word to her or engaged in eye contact. Just briskly entered the Nurse's station and plopped it onto the desk in front of her, leaving before she could even say a word in response. His unnatural coldness left Hayley feeling uneasy.

Turning the corner, Hayley realised that the blue lights and sirens were not getting further away; in fact, she was coming closer to them.

The cop cars were now parked outside her apartment building with officers surrounding the area. There was a hubbub of activity considering it was a Wednesday evening. Some of the officers and a detective were interviewing Mr Boothroyd and some of the second floor tenants, their hands moving wildly over their flip notebooks trying to record any possible clues. There was also an ambulance with a girl from the third floor, Katie Royle, sitting in the back, paramedics flashing a torch into her eyes. She was talking to another detective, nodding, tears in her eyes and smudged mascara all down her cheeks.

_What the heck is going on?_ Hayley thought.

Mr Boothroyd motioned towards her and she pushed through the numerous people surrounding the sidewalk.

"Hey Mr Boothroyd, what happened? What's going on?"

The old man shook his sadly and nodded towards Katie, "You know first floor got burgled last week? Well, Katie came home and her door was open. Silly girl walked in and found her belongings all over the place. Didn't realise the bastard was still inside." He stopped and looked at Hayley still staring at Katie who was now being ushered into a police car, no doubt going to the station for further questioning. They both watched the cops take Katie away before Mr Boothroyd continued, "When the bastard heard Katie scream, he ran out of her bedroom, knocked her down and stole her purse. Then he did a runner before anyone saw anything useful."

"Did she see his face? Will the police find him?"

"Nah. Wearing a mask or something, maybe a balaclava. Katie's memories foggy 'cause of the concussion, and you know I haven't got the money for security cameras. Stupid cops suggested getting cameras and changing all the locks in the building. I told them, that if they wanted to give me the money, then I happily would! Times are hard Hayley, I haven't got the cash for fifteen stories of locks!" Mr Boothroyd scowled, mainly angry at himself that he couldn't protect his tenants. "I'll tell you the same as I'm telling everyone else; if you want to pay to change the locks on your apartment, then that's fine, just keep me informed."

Hayley nodded, knowing that she and the landlord both knew that not many people would be able to afford buying new door locks. Especially since the building was so old that the whole door would probably have to be replaced. She placed a comforting hand on Mr Boothroyd's arm and walked into the building, wanting nothing more than to escape the huge crowd and just go to sleep.

It took a further fifteen minutes of negotiating with the cops, proving that she was indeed a tenant and would not contaminate the crime scene on the third floor, before she was allowed to leave the foyer.

Before ascending up the stairs to her apartment, Hayley walked to row of lockers underneath the stairwell; Mr Boothroyd was once a school headmaster in his prime, and when going into the property rental business, he had taken some old school equipment to furnish the apartment block. This included small things like stereotypical school clocks in each flat and the foyer, plastic lunchroom chairs in the laundry room, and metal dial combination lockers for each resident's letters and parcels. How Mr Boothroyd remembered all the different number codes, she would never know, but the old man had devised an ingenious way to inform his residents that they'd received mail. Mini red flags, like the ones on suburban mailboxes, were attached to each locker and were erect when the mail had been delivered.

Usually Hayley's mail arrived like clockwork – the dreaded monthly bill day. So it was unusual for her red flag to be waving at her midmonth. Even though she felt excited at the prospect of a letter, Hayley was a tad suspicious because much like she rarely receiving phone calls, no one knew where she lived other than her bill issuers.

Cautiously, she twisted the dial left, the right, then right again, and finally left until the lock clicked open. Her locker contained not a letter but a medium sized pristine white box. On the top was her full name printed in white capitals on a fancy sleek black label. The presentation alone was so formal that Hayley thought there might have been a mistake if her name weren't on it. She also realised that her address was not printed on the label – it had been hand delivered! Who knew where she lived?

Hayley clutched at the box nervously, looking behind her and around the foyer to check that she was semi-alone. Taking a seat on the plastic school chair next to the lockers, Hayley tentatively opened the box, peaking carefully inside in case there was a bomb or a dead rat. She laughed quietly to herself at how stupid she was being because if there was a bomb inside then she was already screwed.

She frowned initially, and then began to shake at seeing the contents, almost dropping it in disbelief. Inside was a large tub of Sliver Sulfadiazine cream and three months worth of Co-codamol and Amitriptyline, all the correct dosage.

_How was this even possible? _

She took out each medication in turn, inspecting it, and was surprised to see that they even had her patient and hospital details on it. This medication hadn't been stolen or bought from some seedy drug dealer. It was the real deal from New York-Presbyterian Hospital. How could someone other than her procure her personal medication? Wasn't it illegal? And the cost of three months worth did not come cheap let alone one month. This package truly was a gift. A gift that terrified her.

Hidden at the bottom of the box was a note. Hayley put the medication back in box and lifted the note out, holding her breath. Same as the label on the box, the card note had been printed meaning Hayley wouldn't be able to identify the sender's handwriting. The note was simple;

_Dear Hayley_

_from_

_your friend._

Peter?

But how _could_ it be?

Hayley doubted that as a photographer for The Daily Bugle, Peter Parker would have the necessary connections and detective skills to pull off a stunt like this. Or the money. And, now that she really thought about it, how would Peter have money the to pay her rent on a photographers salary whilst supporting his Aunt May?

Looking back at the note, Hayley had no doubt in her mind that the stranger who paid her rent also sent this package. She flipped the note over seeing if anything else was written on the back. Her face paled.

In the bottom right corner was a bold black logo with a small silver honeycomb pattern beside it; OsCorp.

Harry.

Her mystery benefactor was Harry Osborn.

The breath that was caught in her throat started to become shallow and Hayley gasped for air as reality hit of who her "friend" was. She didn't even question how this would be possible with Harry being in prison because she was certain that Manners must have helped him. Harry Osborn was the most powerful twenty year old in New York, and if he wanted something done then it would be done. He was the _only_ person in her life to have the connections and money to pull off a stunt like this.

The main question was, _why_ was Harry interfering with her personal life and _why_ would he even care? She was nothing to him! She was just a nurse and a psychiatrist, nothing special. So insignificant to him that he even threw a chair at her.

Hayley groaned and put her face in her hands. How could she have been so blind? No wonder Harry threw the chair; he had been angry and had every right to be. She had given Peter credit for _his_ generosity. She felt like a failure.

Guilt washed over her and tears of disappointment rolled down her cheeks. Was she that bad of a therapist to have not realised this sooner? Her behaviour and wrongful assumption had caused Harry to regress. She had brought forth the Goblin's understandable rage at her mistake. Hayley had never felt this bad in her life. She was a disappointment to the medical community, to her degree, and to Harry.

Knowing in her mind that there was nothing she could do to make it right, Hayley sighed forlornly, dragging herself up from where she sat before trudging upstairs with the package from Harry.

When she passed the third floor, Hayley saw that poor Katie's apartment had been blocked off with police tape. At least Hayley could look forward to a banana and noodles in bed, unlike Katie.

God her life really sucked right now.

She felt so terrible about the pain that she had obviously caused Harry that Hayley almost tripped up the last flight, because moving her feet seemed like such a chore.

One question still remained, eating away at her whilst she tried to sleep - what did she mean to Harry Osborn?

* * *

"_Are you seriously going to mope around all day?"_ asked the Goblin as he sat on Harry's cell bed.

The boy was being a real ball ache!

Ever since he'd thrown that chair at Ginge, Harry had refused to talk to him, even letting the Goblin have a full blown shouting match with Manners when he had come in to calm them down.

"_The games are just beginning Harry, you really need to start playing a few rounds instead of leaving it up to me!"_

If Harry was in control of his body he'd have rolled his eyes, "I like playing with people as much as they next guy, heck if life was Monopoly, I'd own every bloody property and hotel on the board! None of this get out of jail free card bullshit! But Hayley's not part of the game, not like those models, she's more – "

"_Complicated?"_

"No. No, she's not complicated. Models are complicated. It's this situation that's making it complicated," Harry explained exasperatedly. If he and the Goblin were part of the same psyche like Hayley said, then why didn't the green guy bloody understand?

"_Oi! I can hear you think, idiot!"_ the Goblin shook his head and began to inspect his normal looking nails in a manner typical of boredom, _"Did you not read the same file as I did? The medical report Manners brought us was fucked up; Ginge brings new meaning to the word complicated."_

"Where's your sense of adventure? I thought you like a challenge," Harry goaded.

"_Make up your god damn mind! One minute you're sulking because you have to flirt with nurses and can't snog Ginge on a daily basis, and next you're saying its all part of the challenge? Maybe you are bipolar…"_

"Will you just shut it!"

"_You can't get rid of me that easily," _snarled the Goblin, lying back on the bed and closed his eyes to fully focus on their conversation. _"Now, not that I care, but since we are in an asylum, would you like to discuss your "feelings"? Come now Harry, let's talk like civilised people."_

"Civilised people don't throw chairs at a girl they fancy," Harry hissed, implying that there was nothing remotely civilised about his alter ego.

"_Don't fucking sass me! You and I both know how angry you felt knowing she believes Parker paid her rent! Why do you think I came out to play, hmmm? Your anger is what I feed off of, so don't blame it all on me!"_

The Goblin was getting really tired of Harry's lack of responsibility for their actions and constant denial for his own feels. He was certain that Harry hadn't been this indecisive before they got locked up in Ravencroft – maybe the isolation was getting to the boy.

"Don't you feel like you over reacted just a little bit?"

"_Don't play stupid Harry, it doesn't look good on you."_

"If she hadn't been Gwen's friend then, maybe…argh…I don't know! She thinks we killed her! That we took Gwen's life! How the fuck are we meant to move past that?" Harry argued.

"_Oh, come on! Is that the root of all this? You feel guilty? How quaint. Such a weakling, just like your father," _the Goblin sneered, "_Did we kill that blonde bitch? No._ _Spider-Man did, and – "_

"Yes, _we _know that – she doesn't."

"_\- and in over a week, Ginge and the whole world will know that Spider-Man is a fraud. That he is guilty for murdering the girl," _said the Goblin, confident that their freedom was on the horizon. "_She'll come running back, they always do."_

Their conversation was cut short by the cell door opening and Manners striding in. He held a bottle of water and a small white pot of tablets.

"Brought you some sweets Mr Osborn."

* * *

Over the next four days Manners continued to visit Harry and bring him his daily medication.

Before handing back Hayley's notebook, Manners had taken the liberty of reading it, making his own notes on her observations and treatment techniques. It was then that he discovered her little secret of slipping Harry the drugs Co-codamol and Quetiapine. Manners was rather surprised that a girl as meek and quiet as Hayley would not consult the other doctors before medicating Harry. As a psychiatrist she could prescribe medications, but to not have the drugs known and on his permanent medical file was strange.

Hell, what she was doing was illegal!

However, after reading through her notes he began to realise that the redhead was only trying to protect his client by not properly documenting the medication on Ravencroft's system. Manners agreed that the ever so wonderful Doctor Scott would probably be more aggressive in Harry's treatment if he discovered Hayley's schizophrenia diagnosis.

And after the abuse the lawyer had received from his client during his fit of rage, Manners was inclined to believe that Harry could indeed be schizophrenic.

God the press would have a field day.

So Manners took it upon himself to continue medicating Harry like the girl would in their daily sessions. It had taken him a couple of days to acquire the correct pills from one of his many sources, during which time Harry had began further caving in on himself, nearly attacking Manners. It was only when he had forced Harry to take the medication again that he become convinced that Hayley had been correct in her diagnosis. The Quetiapine, used to treat schizophrenia, was working wonders in calming Harry down. It was all the proof Manners needed to respect Hayley for breaking the law – she truly did have his client's best interests at heart.

Manners would keep everything a secret, even from Hayley, because she needed believe that Harry was fine without her. That way she could make a clean break and distance herself from the Osborn kid – it was the only way they were ever going to win the trial with this whole erotic transference malarkey. The shady lengths he would go to protect Harry Osborn was unprecedented.

That's what Manners was thinking as he listened to Harry barking in his ear about Felicia Hardy's upcoming visit. Since Manners hadn't spoken to Hayley when he returned her notebook, she had left him a note at Ravencroft's reception about Harry's request to see Miss Hardy.

"- I don't even want to see Felicia. Why would you think it a good idea? I thought you had more sense then that!"

"Then why even tell Miss Carmichael to make me arrange it?" Manners queried getting frustrated now, "You asked for this! What was the point?"

"You told me to flirt with other girls! I was trying to make Hayley jealous!" Harry explained, "I didn't _really _want Felicia to come"

"Well, maybe you can use Miss Hardy's visit to your advantage," advised Manners knowingly.

Harry may have being rich in his favour when making girls swoon, but the lawyer oozed the suave sophistication that only a man in his late thirties could possess – he had more game than the Osborn kid any day.

And when Harry didn't immediately respond to his suggestion, Manners elaborated, "Continue to make the girl jealous Mr Osborn. Make. Her. Jealous. Girls always want a guy more when the green eyed monster is involved, if you'll pardon the expression."

Harry's startling blue eyes flashed, a green tinge appearing and then quickly disappearing, long before Manners had time to really notice it, "You're right Manners. The green eyed monster is a game changer."

* * *

When Hayley got to work the next day there was a post-it note on her computer screen. It was from Manners, his usual cursive scrawl telling her that Harry had requested her presence at 10am.

She glanced at the clock and saw that it was already half past nine – the busy subway this morning had made her later than usual. Hayley didn't really know how to feel about the note; on one hand she felt relieved that the Goblin's anger had subsided and that he'd asked for her, but on the other, did she really want to see him after how he treated her?

It didn't really matter what the answer was, because she was a professional and her personal preferences shouldn't even come into the equation. Though, at least now she could thank Harry for his financial aid. That's what Hayley would do. She would thank him and then put a stop to this "thing" between the two of them. Besides, it was pretty clear to her that Harry often had "things" with many girls, his personal assistant included. And obviously Hayley was no exception.

After looking at the clock again, she saw that she had ten minutes to get to the West wing. Hayley breathed deeply, in and out, trying to prepare herself for seeing Harry again – who knew what kind of mood he'd be in today.

As Hayley walked along the corridors of the West wing, she spotted a strange girl emerging from Harry's cell.

The stranger was a dark brunette with bangs that framed her petite heart shaped face. The black dress she wore fit her body like a glove, showing off her slim frame with a fitted waist and a short A line skirt. The smoky makeup around her eyes made her creamy skin stand out; Hayley noticed that the girl had those little eyeliner cat eye flicks, a makeup trick that she'd tried once and miserably failed at. The girl held herself with grace and an air of superiority, not in a snooty way, but rather that she was sure of herself, comfortable in her skin, unlike Hayley.

As the girl walked closer, Hayley spotted how her cheeks were unnaturally flushed, that her lips were rouged and swollen with the surrounding makeup smudged and uneven. The brunette's hair was slightly dishevelled and she even had a strange dark red almost purple mark on her collarbone.

The two women passed each other in the hall and Hayley quickly caught a glimpse of the name on the Ravencroft visitors pass clipped onto the girl's dress; Felicia Hardy.

Hayley quickly looked down at the floor not wanting to engage in conversation with Harry's beautiful personal assistant. However, this time, her shyness didn't make her invisible.

Flashing a perfect pearly white smile, Felicia extended out her hand, "Hi. I noticed your heading to Room 136, are you going to see Mr Osborn?"

"Erm, yes, yes I am," Hayley confirmed uneasily, feeling the assistant's black polished nails scratching her skin slightly as they clasped hands in an introductory shake. The girl seemed nice enough but Hayley didn't like her own actions being questioned in her work place.

"Are you giving Mr Osborn his medication? The weekly schedule I have clearly states that he receives Amitriptyline nightly, and -" Felicia checked her skinny Rolex "- it is only 10am." She smiled, politely enough, though she began to flick through some papers attached to an A4 Filofax, pointing at the Harry's timetabled physician visits.

"I am Harry's-"

"Harry?" Felicia's lip curled at the familiarity shown by being on a first name basis with a patient.

"- erm, I'm Mr Osborn's psychiatrist and leading nurse," Hayley said, not liking the way the girl now looked her up and down as if assessing her credibility.

"Oh? Dave Manners mentioned you had been suspended as Mr Osborn's nurse. Since the trial is two weeks away, his own court appointed doctors and psychiatrist will be overseeing his treatment for the trial's duration," the brunette explained.

Hayley swallowed thickly, aware that she was blinking a little too much, more than normal. "I…er…I didn't… I'll have to check with Doctor Scott," she replied meekly, "Though I will need to check in on him since he asked me to."

Why had no one told her she'd been suspended from his case? Did their argument in the previous session really have that much of an effect on him? Was his refusal to see her all week that strong that she had now lost him as a patient?

"Of course he did," Felicia smiled stifling a knowing titter. "Well, try not to unsettle him. He is in a _very _good mood today," she continued, biting her lower lip suggestively.

And with a little goodbye waggle of her fingers, Felicia prowled down the hall away from Hayley, her hips swaying like she was on a catwalk.

Hayley sniffed and rubbed at her eyes, which were itching and still contained a small tear that her furious blinking had not removed. She straightened her posture and put her professional mask back on, not wanting to show Harry any more weakness.

Knocking on the window to announce her arrival, Hayley opened the large door, curious as to where Colin was – probably on another cigarette break. That guy really had an addiction.

Once inside, she quickly closed the door behind her.

As per usual, Harry was sprawled on his bed, legs akimbo and fully relaxed, his eyes and skin, thankfully, normal. Hayley became much calmer upon seeing that she hadn't fully unleashed the Goblin from their tiff earlier in the week. She also noticed that he had a rather smug grin on his face, like a satisfied cat that had got the cream.

"H…Harry?"

Instantly his demeanour changed, his shoulders tensed and his dreamy eyes narrowed as he stared at her, "What are you doing here?"

"You, you asked for me didn't you?" Now Hayley was really confused.

"Did I? I don't think I would have. It's not like I _want_ to see you," he spat, turning to look at the wall to prove his point.

"But I got a note. It said you wanted to - "

"Well, there must have been a mistake. I have no reason to see_ you_!" Harry snarled unkindly

"Then who…?

"I don't know, maybe Manners? Why don't you bother him with your pointless questions."

Turning back the way she'd come, Hayley couldn't help muttering under her breath, "And Felicia said you were in a good mood."

Harry let out a low cackle, his time in the relatively silent cell having heightened his sense of hearing. "I was before _you_ showed up," he spoke, smiling when he saw the hurt in her eyes. "Felicia is the kind of girl that brightens the room, unlike you. She really knows how to make a man _happy._ Bright, bubbly, beautiful, in a sense, _perfect_," Harry purred sending one nasty jab after another.

"Of course she is," Hayley whispered with a sniff.

_Do not cry, do not cry_, she thought over and over.

With hands clasped firmly on the door, she drew enough strength to say one final thing, "Thank you, Mr Osborn, for the money and medication. It was a pleasure doing business with you."

Surprised by her words, Harry turned sharply towards the door with every intention of standing and going to her to make sure he'd heard the door slammed shut before he even had the chance. Harry simply stood and stared at where her deflated body had been, guilt washing over him in waves as he considered her choice of words.

"What am I even doing?" he asked quietly to no one in particular.

"_What you have to do. Don't start being weak now you imbecile!" _the Goblin soothed in the only way he knew best – by insulting Harry.

"Did you not hear her? She practically said our relationship was purely business!"

"_And your pleasurable yet beneficial relationship with Felicia isn't?"_

"That's different, she works for me," Harry shot back hotly. "Besides, Hayley called me Mr Osborn, and she's _never_ done that!"

"_Jesus Christ, pull yourself together! This whole 'woe is me' act is getting old Harry! You sound like a spoilt little rich kid who hasn't got his way!"_

"Well…"

"_Fine. Bad comparison. Ginge WILL be ours, you just have to be patient," _the Goblin scowled getting fed up with the weakness his alter ego was showing. "_Jealousy takes time to manifest itself completely. Besides, when we win this trial, when we are free, then you can stop this charade and gain control over Ginge again."_

Looking towards the dirty mirror, Harry smirked at the Goblin's words and his reflection. If it was one thing that an Osborn wanted most, it was control.

* * *

**DRAMA! – Sorry it's a little short, just didn't want to keep you waiting, and I know this chapter's a tad filler but it is necessary my loves!**

**So, the next chapter I am going to make EPICALLY long because, 1. We reached 100 reviews OMFG I LOVE YOU, and 2. It's time to get our Harry OUT of Ravencroft YAY! I'm estimating, 2 or 3 more chaps before he is officially released HALLELUJAH. I'm sorry it's taken a while to get to this point and I hope I'm not losing readers because of this; I just want to realistically show the 5month incarceration progression mentioned in the film.**

**Also, this might make you laugh guys, but when I'm writing this fic, I'm slightly conscious that it is set in America, so I subtly tailor my language to reflect this. For instance, in the UK, I would say 'lift' and the US would be 'elevator', 'police' to 'cop', 'post' I change to 'mail', 'tap' to 'faucet', 'pavement' to 'sidewalk' etc. I think I only know these things because of watching TV lol I don't mind doing it because I think it gives my story more realism and cements it in the country of origin. Thought I'd let you in on my secret because I was doing this earlier and it made me laugh :P The only thing you might notice me not change is 'colour' to 'color' – that's my one UK spelling I'm keeping hehe! **

**Love you all and lots of hugs and thanks for those who read, review, follow, favourite and all that jazz XXX**


	16. Chapter 16

**Featured song**: _Wonder _– Lauren Aquilina

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**I do not own Marvel, The Amazing Spider-Man 2, or any character affiliated with the franchise. However, there is a scene from the movie in this chapter – I have developed it and built upon the dialogue to further cement my story within the film universe canon. I do not make any money etc. by putting this into my story and I am not promoting the film (though it is awesome), it is merely needed to aid the plot and fictional writings of a crazy moose i.e. me, the author. Enjoy.**

* * *

Hayley was finding work stressful, and today had proved especially hard with her surprise introduction to Felicia Hardy. However, she knew that seeing the OsCorp assistant was an inevitability.

With the impending trial, Hayley knew that she would see many of OsCorp's employees, specifically Felicia, but had hoped that their meeting would be in a court setting. The brunette had gotten under her skin, rattled the little self-confidence she had, and Harry's account of how perfect Felicia was had only made Hayley feel worse.

So she had declined the offer of extending her shift that day. Instead, Hayley had followed her feet to find sanctuary and comfort with an old friend.

"Hey, Gwen! I know it's been a while but I could really use your help," Hayley said looking directly at her friend's gravestone before kneeling down beside it. "You'd be so proud of me today! I stopped it Gwen. This "thing" between Harry and me, is over. It can't continue anyway, now that I'm no longer treating him. So, it's probably for the best."

She nodded her head and pursed her lips, trying to convince herself that her last sentence held some truth.

Hayley continued talking, hoping that the tears that threatened to spill would be contained if she just kept talking, "He's doing fine without me, I mean he's back to normal, right? He seems to have the Goblin under control. Maybe he didn't need the pills after all. Maybe I imagined that they were helping him or I simply just wanted them to help him. Then everyone would see that I'm a good therapist that I deserve to be more at Ravencroft. Though, obviously I was wrong because he is fine. Fine! I'm truly not a good psychiatrist.

"I'm falling apart Gwen; I'm loosing myself, again. And where are you when I need you most? I'm alone now! I have no one, don't you get it? You were my friend and you abandoned me! We were meant to have plans that night, but you never showed! I was worried sick and you wouldn't return my calls, I even tried Peter, but nothing!"

She stopped, turning sharply upon hearing a twig snap and the nearby bushes rustle.

Nothing.

Hayley was alone.

Though, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched. Looking around again just to be certain, she locked eyes with a stone angel over by the sycamore tree a couple of yards behind her. She shook her head at her own stupidity – graveyards were creepy.

Hayley directed her attention back to Gwen's grave, ducking her head and clutching at the memorial stone with a trembling hand, "Where were you? Why were you at the OsCorp power plant anyway Gwen? It's like when you_ had_ to help make that antidote for the Lizard's attack last year – you put yourself in unnecessary danger! You can't save everyone, you know? You made me feel alive, you made me feel like me again, like the best version of me; you were my everything and now your gone. You left me! And now, now…" She stopped and tried to compose herself, "It's ironic really. I thought God had abandoned me in the fire and now I'm here confessing my sins and woes in a graveyard.

"I'm irrelevant right? That's why he's fine without me, that is why he doesn't need me, why no one ever needs me. He barely even noticed I'm gone. I'm nothing to nobody now. But, he _did_ need me, he _chose_ me! Out of the whole institute he chose me and then he just throws me away like everyone else!"

Hayley was growing angry now; bitterness drenched her delivery, every word dripping with distain, "You should have seen his assistant Gwen, god, she was stunning. I could never fit the bill, you know, how can I compete with that? They did _something_ in that cell - they must have had a moment, or something. She had a hickey on her neck, you could barely miss it, shining like a bright red danger sign. It was like he _wanted_ me to see. Like a predator marking their possession."

She looked down to her now healed fingers. They were still bandaged. Hayley was almost reluctant to remove the dressings as it reminded her of the time when he had marked her as his, in a twisted sort of way. He said she was worthy then, worthy of his attention, affection, and even his anger.

"Listen to me! Why do I even care? Like, what's wrong with me that I want to get involved with Harry Osborn. He killed you Gwen. He's a murderer. A murderer who I kissed. I'm so ashamed Gwen. But he makes me feel alive, like I'm worth something, like I matter, like I can do anything. I only want what's best for him. I'm not stupid though, I know I can't change him but I thought I was bringing out the best in him. Like he brought out the best in me.

"Maybe I am worthless, maybe I am weak. I wasn't always though. I was strong once, before…" she trailed off, looking towards part of the graveyard that she avoided like the plague. The place where her parents were buried. "And when I went to England and got my degree, I felt strong then. I wanted to change people's lives; I wanted to save them from their self-destruction. Maybe that's why I'm so drawn to him… I can't do anything to help him now.

"Was I too easy? Was that why he lost interest? Or maybe he's just ignoring me like what a child would do. It's kind of like when you're a kid and you play kiss chase in the playground. You always run from the boy you like because it's scary and he might like you too. But then he would kiss all the other girls and not you, so that meant he didn't like you right?" Hayley chuckled dryly and picked at one of the dead flowers around the grave absentmindedly, "Not that I would know – no one would go near me after the accident. Anyway, the boy that never chased you actually liked you too. So maybe Harry does like me. Is it wrong that I want him to like me? These feelings I have, Gwen, they can't be rational! I wish you were here, because, how I feel, I can barely put it into words… I… I _like_ him."

A strange muffled sound, almost like a stifled swear, carried in on the wind right into Hayley's ear. She scanned the graves and bushes that were dotted around, making doubly sure that she was indeed alone. The graveyard seemed empty enough to her apart from the imposing watchful stone angels.

"I could be sneaky, I could be smart, smart like you Gwen. Maybe I could use a bit of psychiatry know how on him, after all it is one of my strengths." Reaching up to the back of her head, Hayley pulled out her hair tie, her auburn locks cascading down to her shoulders with a few limp strands moving gently in the wind. "He doesn't own me, he doesn't control me! It pissed him off when my hair wasn't in its usual style; he noticed me then," she smiled sadly, remembering how insistent he'd been that day – Harry enjoyed pulling her hair, and, truth be told, she liked it too.

With a plan set in her mind and her soul now bared, Hayley stood stiffly, her legs tired from kneeling. She grabbed her handbag and decided to take the long way home to stretch her legs.

If she hadn't been so absorbed in her sorrow, Hayley would have noticed that her feeling of being watched held some credibility.

Behind a nearby rose bush sat Peter Parker; on his way to visit Gwen he had noticed the redhead sobbing and kneeling beside the grave. As much as Peter wanted to go to her, something told him not to, his Spidey senses tingling. And, well, he wasn't that good dealing with his own emotions, let alone other peoples! So Peter had quickly ducked behind a sycamore tree and stayed hidden by the bushes for the majority of Hayley's confession. Luckily for them both the cemetery had been empty, therefore his spying went undisturbed and unnoticed, even by Hayley.

Peter watched her leave, walking the long way round as usual, before letting out a slow breath before sitting back on the ground more comfortably. He ruffled his hair thoughtfully not to sure how to process all the information he'd just heard. It sounded like Harry was causing trouble as always and that his patent for women hadn't changed. But what disturbed Peter the most was Hayley's obvious attraction to his estranged friend. Although he knew Harry had that effect on people, he always thought Hayley had more dignity than to be sucked into the Osborn charm. Obviously Peter was wrong. Hayley was more damaged than even Gwen had let on, and it made him sad to realise that he didn't really know her at all.

He remembered when Gwen first introduced the pair; Hayley had returned from England and was meeting her best friend for late night Chinese. He'd only tagged along at Gwen's insistence, instantly regretting it upon seeing the redhead's energy deplete when she learnt that there would be three for dinner, not two.

Gwen hadn't noticed her friend's sadness, as she was too excited at seeing her old friend, and talked non-stop when Hayley would only offer one-word answers about her time abroad. Peter knew that his girlfriend had the best intentions; she wanted the two most important people in her life to be friends and get to know one another. However it seemed that Hayley desired quality girl time and unfortunately Peter had denied her that. And he continued to be the person standing between her friendship with Gwen, as his girlfriend's busy schedule and his vigilante lifestyle meant she would unintentionally blow her plan's with Hayley on a regular basis. For that reason alone, Peter knew they would never be real friends.

Rubbing his face, Peter ignored the memories of the past and tried to refocus. Helping Hayley was out of the question – she was too involved with Harry to be considered an ally anymore, and at this point the tiny shred of friendship they may have had had probably been compromised. Peter didn't know if he could trust her, trust Hayley to stand by him if he did reveal what happened that night, if she finally discovered that he was Spider-Man. He could tell that she was confused, heck, he was bloody confused. But his mind was clear when it came to Harry. Hers was not.

He'd have to keep a closer eye on the redhead.

For her sake…and for his.

* * *

Apart from his illness and billion-dollar fortune, Harry had also inherited Norman Osborn's short fuse and lack of patience – he wanted things when he wanted them and did not like having to wait. Therefore, it should come as no surprise that this cat and mouse game with Hayley was really starting to test his patience. And having the Goblin goading him and giving snarky commentary wasn't helping to improve his grouchy mood. Even Felicia's visit had left a bitter taste in his mouth. Sure, he enjoyed fooling around with a pretty girl, but she wasn't _the _prettiest girl in his sights; Hayley was.

Since he had been relatively Goblin outburst free for the last three months of his now five month stay at Ravencroft, not counting his most recent episode, Manners had been able to secure new privileges for his client. Harry had been having his meals brought to his cell daily during his incarceration, as his condition was deemed too dangerous to be around other inmates. However, after Felicia's visit, Manners returned later in the day to inform Harry of the good news. With the trial just over a week away, the lawyer had gone to Doctor Scott asking for Harry to eat his meals in the Ravencroft canteen. Manners wanted to show the courts that his client was civilised enough to not be provoked by people and normal situations. Whereas Doctor Scott had only agreed because he was determined for the Osborn kid to fail and be locked up in his institution for good.

That was three days ago.

Currently, Harry was sitting alone at a table in the large canteen eating a disgusting ham and cheese sandwich; as soon as he was free he'd order in some decent food, probably shawarma from that place he liked downtown. He ate alone like he did at ever meal time, choosing to sit away from the other inmates so that he could observe them and assess their possible usefulness. In particular, he watched the bald man from Room 125, a Russian mobster called Aleksei Sytsevich, and also Kinsey. There was something off about the latter inmate. Manners had done a background check on the man, who was in on charges of stalking, assault, rape, and murder. All victims were women. All were redheads. No wonder the guy looked at Hayley like she was a piece of meat. It made Harry sick.

He'd had to watch Kinsey stare at his girl every lunchtime since he'd been permitted to use the canteen.

Being under the impression that Hayley's only role at Ravencroft was as nurse and sometimes psychiatrist, Harry had been rather surprised to see her in the lunchroom watching over the inmates at midday. Apparently, all the nurses were on a weekly canteen rota to stand watch with the prison guards in case an inmate became unruly or entered into an uncontrollable psychosis. It was ironic really that his little redhead had been timetabled to work the lunch shift this week, especially since Harry was trying to distance himself. It appeared fate had other plans.

To be honest, Kinsey wasn't the only inmate that stared at Hayley; men locked up day in and day out with minimal female contact were bound to have their eyes glaze over in lust. The female nurses were subjected to catcalls and wondering eyes when they worked in the canteen but all had grown used to the abuse. However, for Harry, to witness this kind of barbaric behaviour directed at _his_ ginger doll made his blood boil with rage. The Goblin had concocted intricate and painful plans to kill every single bastard that she attracted.

Harry, who was supposed to be ignoring her, found that his sparkling blue orbs were constantly drawn in her direction like magnets. She seemed to have under gone a small transformation, much to Harry's pleasure, the defiant little minx. The long black fitted skirt had made a delightful return along with a splash of pink lip-gloss and some cheap patent kitten heels. And, much to his displeasure, her hair was back in that prudish bun, all it's auburn beauty tied up in a tight ball.

Even though she was stood across the room, Harry had a strong urge to go to her, rip her hair out of that bun and then drag her to his cell. He was frustrated to be so close to her and yet unable to do anything. Plus, it didn't help matters that she seemed to be ignoring him too. On the rare occasion that he managed to catch her eye, Hayley would quickly look away; it only made Harry more determined to have her. No one ignored an Osborn, not by choice.

"_Really Harry? Are we going to have this conversation, again? Isn't it a good thing that she's ignoring you?"_

Harry rolled his eyes and clenched his fist, squishing his revolting sandwich. "No, it's not a _good_ thing, actually! _We,_ are the game maker, _she_ is the player," he thought, speaking to the Goblin in this mind, "She _should_ be the one making sideways glances!"

"_And yet here you are, not able to keep your eyes from her," _the Goblin chastised gently, _"I think Ginge is playing her own game… how delightful."_

"I think I'll ask Manners to arrange a meeting with her – "

"_WHAT?!"_

Rolling his eyes again with a sigh, Harry rubbed at his temples from the slight discomfort it caused to converse with himself mentally, "Oh please, like you don't want to see her either. This whole keeping our distance thing will only continue to work if she is reminded who's boss – that hairstyle _needs_ to be addressed."

"_So petty and petulant Harry."_

"Fuck you," Harry snarled aloud, drawing a few hard glares from suspicious prisoners.

Even Hayley had broken her frosty act and quickly darted concerned eyes in his direction.

Throwing the mulched sandwich on his tray, Harry spoke again, mentally, to the Goblin. "If she continues to look that way, then…god knows! Kinsey's practically drooling, and his trousers aren't _that_ tight because they're a few sizes too small. He's an animal and she can't be alone with him."

"_True," _the Goblin considered slowly.

"I will remind her to dress appropriately."

"_Only if you must."_

* * *

Both men were sitting in Room 136, legs crossed, arms folded, brows furrowed; waiting.

Manners glanced at his silver Rolex, conscious that as the minutes ticked by, Harry was more inclined to get ticked off. At his client's request, Manners had emailed Hayley and put a post-it on her desk the previous day, to inform her of the proposed meeting.

"She's late."

"Yes, by three minutes," Manners coughed, shifting uncomfortably, noticing how the air between the two had altered, the room suddenly feeling heavy and dangerous.

Glancing at the boy, Manners could see that Harry was irritated, a scowl fixed on his face, foot tapping impatiently.

"She knows I don't like tardiness," Harry bite out as he inspected his nails trying to convey an air of calm though he knew that his lawyer wasn't fooled. His eyes were trained on Manners' watch, his ears attuned to the harsh ticking that seemed to echo around him with each passing minute.

Five minutes.

Harry's jaw clenched.

Ten minutes.

His breathing quickened and became erratic.

Fifteen minutes.

Harry stood suddenly, kicking the chair from beneath him and grabbing Manners by the shoulders.

"Go find her. NOW!" he snarled, shoving the lawyer away from him, his face scrunched in manic anger.

Manners quickly left the cell to find the redhead, realising that his client was starting to loose his patience. Quickly.

Pacing up and down the length of his small room, Harry kicked at his chair again, sending it sailing into the chair Manners had previously occupied. Both chairs clattered against the wall, the sound of metal on stone resonating loudly in the four confining walls. Harry growled in frustration as he ran his hands over his face and through his hair.

"Where. The. Hell. Is. SHE?!" he bellowed stalking over to the door and banging his fist against the window, "WHERE IS SHE? Bring her here NOW!"

The anger suddenly became overwhelming and Harry made a grab for the discarded chairs throwing one at the mirror over his sink. The mirror cracked but did not shatter. Harry roared again. Feelings of loneliness and abandonment from his childhood began to re-emerge, which only heightened the distress he felt at Hayley not turning up for their meeting.

She was _always_ there when he needed her. Hadn't she told him once that she'd never truly leave him? Lies! It was all lies!

Harry continued to destroy his room for a good fifteen minutes before collapsing, exhausted on his bed.

"_Feel better? Enjoy your little tantrum? You, are the one who pushed her away! Why would Ginge come today now she's no longer treating us?" _questioned the Goblin casually, "_You have no one to blame but – "_

"Stop! Just. STOP!" Harry retorted, gripping his head with both hands wanting to rip the monstrous Id from his mind.

His breathing had become more laboured from his violent exertion and it seemed only to be getting worse with the realisation that Hayley was indeed not coming today. It was his own fault that she'd left him. Everyone left him and it was always his fault; he was going to die alone.

The door rattled and the hinges screeched open.

Lifting his head hopefully, Harry waited for her to walk into the room.

When she didn't immediately appear, the small feeling of hope quickly slipped away, "Get in here Hayley. NOW!"

Four armed guards waltzed in followed by Colin and Nurse Cadence.

"Stand up and put ya hands on ya 'ead," Colin stated gruffly as the guards with guns quickly surrounded Harry, who was still lying on the dishevelled bed.

He was in no mood for this shit.

"And why do I need to do that?" Harry asked steadily through gritted teeth, before flashing a wide mocking grin to the party of six.

Nurse Cadence walked forward to explain; "It's time for the real therapy to begin Mr Osborn."

* * *

Manners had searched high and low for Hayley but the girl was elusive!

No one seemed to know where she was and when he had gone to the Nurse's station, her desk had not changed from the previous day when he'd left her the post-it note. Said note was still stuck to the computer screen. The lawyer sighed, dreading having to explain to Harry that the girl hadn't turned up for work and therefore had no idea of their meeting. He unbuttoned his suit jacket and slackened his tie in an attempt to cool himself after rushing around in vain.

It was only when he really stopped and looked around the room, and then walked back out to in corridor, did Manners notice that the institute was eerily quite. And not just quiet. Empty.

Where was everyone?

Stalking back to the West wing, Manners had an uneasy feeling in his stomach, like something bad was happening. The atmosphere just seemed off.

He was about to turn the bend into the entrance of the West wing when Manners heard someone yelling. It was faint, but he would know that voice anywhere.

Harry.

Ignoring the fact that his shoes and suit were designer and would most likely get scuffed and rumpled, Manners raced towards his client's screams, mindlessly following the noise like a pied piper. He ran down corridors he'd never even seen before, desperate to locate Harry as soon as possible. What was going on?

As he turned a sharp bend with the sign "North wing" on the wall, Manners finally saw Harry struggling against the vice like grip of two guards, restraints bound his hands and feet. Manners was more shocked to see that there were semi-automatic guns pointed at the terrified boy.

"OI! WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON HERE?" he yelled. When the company of guards failed to respond, Manners tried again, "What is the meaning of this? STOP! For fuck sake, STOP!"

Still no response.

Manners hadn't quite caught up to the group but as he drew nearer, he could see that they had stopped, and a guard was punching a code into a security heavy door. He hastened his pace, practically sprinting like a greyhound, anxious to close the distance between himself and Harry.

The group and Harry entered the now unlocked room.

Just as he reached the door it shut tight, effectively locking Manners out of the North wing.

Banging on the sturdy metal and glass sliding door, Manners tried to catch the attention of someone in the room, anyone that could explain this farce. The guards in the room ignored him and marched Harry over to a horrific looking hospital bed that was surrounded by scientific metal contraptions. However, the various doctors and nurses, who were dressed in strange rubber like clothing, were all staring at Manners, unsure what to do about the disturbance he was causing.

Along with the commotion Manners was making, the room itself was hectic, full of strange looking instruments surrounding numerously busy people. All the while Harry continued to bellow.

"Now, now, Mr Manners, there really is no need for that," said Doctor Scott, suddenly appearing, grinning through the glass, his voice full of psychotic excitement.

"What the fuck is this? Why is he getting strapped down?" Manners shouted practically pulling his hair out in frustration at not understanding what the hell was happening.

Doctor Scott held up an official looking document against the glass for the lawyer to read, "The court has ordered a few tests before the trial. As you can see this document allows me to put Mr Osborn through testing to see how strongly he reacts to stress. Especially since the stress of the trial may bring out the monster in him."

"Are you fucking serious? What kind of testing involves all this? Let me in, I want to be in there!"

"Oh, I can't do that Mr Manners, you are not a Ravencroft employee and thus not permitted to enter," Doctor Scott smirked, loving the power he held over the swanky lawyer, "We'll return him to his cell once I'm finished with him. Though, you are welcome to watch."

* * *

They had knocked him out shortly after entering the therapy room.

When Harry came to, he instinctively went to rub at the throbbing on the side of his face. However he quickly discovered that his movements were greatly restricted by metal clamps and strapping that pinned down his arms and legs. He could feel plastic electrode pads covering his temples and now bare chest. Metallic clamps with wires were individually attached to all his fingers. Harry could barely move his head from side to side.

Instead, he used his eyes to survey the situation; several strange people with lab coats and peculiar clothing were standing over him. He only recognised one of them.

"Ahhh! Good to see you are awake Mr Osborn," Doctor Scott spoke gleefully, "You may recognise the room you're in, no? We've altered the harness that held your friend Electro – now it holds you."

The doctor moved towards a panel of computers and typed in a few codes. All of a sudden the room came to life, machines whirring, and a powerful sense of tangible energy cloaked Harry where he lay.

Scott rolled up his lab coat sleeves, rubbing his gloved hands together, eager to begin, "Now, let's get the show started!" He leant down towards Harry and whispered quietly so that only they could hear, "Do be sure to let me know when it hurts."

"ARRRGGGGHHHHH!" Harry yelled.

He could feel sharp electric pain trickling through his veins, making them pulse wildly, jutting out from his skin that was rapidly turning green. The nails on his fingers dug down into his palms drawing blood. But Harry could barely feel it. His whole body began to convulse with the electrical power surging under his skin, struggling involuntarily against his bindings, flesh infected with pure agonising discomfort.

Harry forced himself to hold on to his sanity with every fibre of his being, whilst fighting to breathe, live, exist; he refused to let them win.

"ARRGGGHHHHAYYYLLLEEEYYY!"

* * *

It was a sunny day though a gentle wind made the air bitingly cold, which was why Hayley was wearing her favourite Metallica jumper, hugging it to her tiny frame as she walked slowly down the sidewalk. She'd decided to take the day off to do some much-needed chores around the home and have a good rest. Surprisingly, Doctor Scott and Nurse Cadence had agreed without any insistence on her part. Hayley had a lot more free time now that6 Harry was no longer her patient, meaning that her workload had lessened in terms of paper work and session preparation. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had a day off - it had been a long time coming.

For that reason, Hayley decided to visit her preferred grocery store, which was further away from her home than the one where she did her usual weekly shop. Whole Foods Market produce was a lot more expensive than her cheap Pot Noodles, but since Harry had paid her rent, she had a little bit extra money to buy some real food for a change. She was dying to purchase some Wheat Free products – wheat didn't really agree with her.

Hayley entered the store, her mood improving when she was the beautifully presented aisles of yummy nutritious food. She picked up a small basket and began to make her way round the store. Since she didn't have anything specific to buy, Hayley took her time, walking up and down each aisle slowly, looking at any product whose packaging caught her eye.

It was only when she was inspecting cans of healthy soup, did Hayley notice there was a tall lanky man standing too close beside her. Turning to tell the stranger to buzz off, Hayley's glare changed to a surprised smile at seeing that the man was in fact Peter Parker.

"Peter!"

"Hey, hey Hayley. How's it hanging? Any, eh, exciting soups?" Peter chuckled, grabbing a can of vegetable soup and throwing it from hand-to-hand absentmindedly.

Hayley smiled warmly and made a grab for the flying can, dumping it into her basket, "Thought I deserved a change from Pot Noodles."

"So how you been?" Peter asked uncomfortably, scratching the back of his neck, "You still look, um, you know, ill, ill-ish."

"Hence the soup Parker," Hayley said shortly – as much as it was nice that someone cared, she really didn't want to talk about her health. "How are you feeling about Thursday?"

"Thurs…Thursday? What's, what's happening Thursday?"

Hayley blinked up at the tall boy shocked that he didn't seem to know. Of all the days to forget!

"The trial. Thursday. Harry's trial?"

Peter shuffled his feet and glanced away from Hayley. Of course he hadn't forgot, he just didn't want to think about it.

"Hey, Peter, it's ok." Hayley stepped forward and gave him a quick awkward hug, wrapping her tiny arms around his waist, trying to reassure her friend, "It's gona be hard but we have to be there. For Gwen."

"Are you sure you won't be there for Harry?" he asked sharply, moving out of the redhead's weak hug.

"Well, yes, I will be there for Harry," Hayley said slowly, not really understanding the attitude behind Peter's question, "I will be giving evidence and my professional opinion on his progress and state of mind."

"And…er…what is your professional opinion on the man who took away Gwen?"

"That's not any of your business… hang on, my phone's ringing," Hayley said, frowning slightly as she pulled her cell from her jumper pocket; it was Manners. "Hello?"

"Where the fuck are you? No, don't tell me, I don't care! Get down to Ravencroft, NOW!" Manners yelled down the cell phone.

Hayley was astounded that she could hear the man so clearly when he was obviously calling from inside the institute - cell service was terrible in the depths of Ravencroft.

"Wait, Manners, slow down. I don't under – "

"Harry needs you!" There was a pause. "God fucking damn it!"

"What's happened?" she asked desperately, Peter putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder whilst he leaned in, straining to listen.

"Fucking court documents that's what. Scott's got him strapped to a bed and their fucking shocking him! Electric fucking therapy!

"W…what?"

"I can't get in to stop them! Harry's gone! He's turned green! For Christ sake, this is sabotage!" Manners roared desperately, his attempts to break down the door could be heard echoing down the receiver, "No one will let me in! I don't have a fucking key card!

"Is Cheryl not in? You could use her key – "

"HAYLEY! Can you not hear this?"

Hayley heard Manners bang his phone against a glass window, Harry's pain induced screams clear as a bell ringing in her eyes, tormenting images rushing through her mind. Even Peter's head jerked back at the ferocity of the strange noises emanating from Hayley's cell phone.

"Oh my god!" she gasped, her doe eyes wide with fear and glassy with tears. "I'll be right there Manners. I'm coming, tell him I'm coming," Hayley hollered, quickly hanging up and stuffing her phone into her handbag.

She dropped her groceries, their purchase no longer important, soup cans rolling over the floor.

Peter and the surrounding shoppers watched her slowly backing towards the entrance, a look of absolute terror etched on her pale face. Walking forward and following her path, Peter reached out to grab her hand.

"He needs me, Peter! He needs me!" Hayley explained, ripping her arm from his grasp before racing out the store, her feet pounding hard against the sidewalk as she ran like she'd never run before.

Pulling out her pass, Hayley sprinted to the nearest subway station, the wind whistling around her. Today was not the day to be further away from Ravencroft than usual! Her erratic movements caused her hair to become loose, the tight bun losing its hold, her locks escaping back into their usual ponytail style.

"I'm coming Harry," Hayley breathed to herself, "I won't loose you too."

* * *

Manners looked at the cell phone in his hand resisting the urge to chuck it at the nearest wall. He began to pace up and down the short hallway, flinching every time a new scream was expelled from Harry's lips; the door may have been made of bulletproof glass but he could hear every painful cry.

Rubbing at his temples with stress filled fingers, Manners tried to reason with himself that as long as Harry continued to yell, then it meant he was holding on. It meant that he hadn't passed out. It meant that Hayley might find them in time to stop this madness. Not that she would be able to do anything other than get him into the room.

"ARGH…AR…AAARRRGGGHHHHH!"

He heard steady footsteps approaching. They didn't sound like the delicate heels of a woman but Manners need to hold on to something and that was hope.

A strange man briskly approached the lawyer.

"Our boy isn't looking too good," commented the stranger peeking through the window at the torture going on in the other room.

"Look, I know I asked you to come today, but there's been a change of fucking plans here," Manners said exasperatedly, "I'm sorry I've wasted your time. I'll call you later when I've sorted out this fucking mess!"

"AR…AAARRRGGGHHHHH!"

"Jesus Christ, Hayley were the fuck are you?" Manners was beside himself with worry for Harry's wellbeing, imagining the worst as he watched in horror as the boy started to no longer look like himself.

He was a monster.

Lost in his anxiety, the lawyer failed to notice that the stranger had vanished.

* * *

"_You are alone," _the Goblin whispered,_ "I will always be waiting. I will always be longing for you to begin spiralling downward. You are the shadow. I am the dark. I embrace all of you. Every dark thought you've ever had. Every bad thing you have ever done. That was I. I am you when you cannot fight."_

"AR…AAARRRGGGHHHHH!"

"_You were never good enough Harry. Just not good enough. You can't even hold on to a friend. Even Peter betrayed you. You are not worthy of being someone's friend. You are not worthy of caring for or understanding people. You are a terrible person. Such a worthless disgusting person. That's why everyone hates you. That's why they stay away from you. That's why you loose everyone. Why you have no one. You do not deserve love. The one thing you crave, you cannot have. Who would love you anyway?" _

"ARGH…AR…AAARRRGGGHHHHH!"

"_One more deep breath. One more. One more before you are lost. Before your soul deserts you. Before your soul belongs to me. Let your body accept me. Let me take over, you know you want to. Give in, Harry. Let me help you. Let me be you."_

"ARRRGGGGHHHHH!"

"_She left us, Harry. Ginge left us…"_

"ARRGGGHHHHAYYYLLLEEEYYY!"

"_She's gone…"_

"HARRY!"

* * *

Manners turned sharply, barely believing his ears.

"HARRY!" Hayley screamed again, urgently racing towards the North wing, "HARRY? Manners? Where are you?"

The lawyer ran the short distance down the corridor to meet the redhead, "Give me the key card! Give it to me, NOW!"

Hayley quickly pushed the swipe card into Manners outstretched hand as they both hurried towards the locked door. Manners fumbled with the locking mechanism, his hands trembling due to the sudden adrenaline of being able to aid Harry.

"Wait," Hayley said quietly.

Manners looked at her like she'd lost her mind, "WAIT! What do you mean, wait?"

She pointed at the array of medical staff and guards behind the door. "Look Manners," she said shakily, "They've finished. They're setting him free."

In their panic, both Hayley and Manners had failed to notice that Harry's screams no longer echoed around them. The blood pounding in their ears had deafened them to the sudden silence.

Both watched, holding their breath, as Harry was taken out of the metal clamps and torturous restraints. The doctors removed the electrodes that covered his body, roughly pulling on his regulation white t-shirt and hauling up the orange jumpsuit to cover his shoulders. Colin and Ernie dragged his limp and unconscious body onto a wheelchair that Nurse Cadence had swiftly brought forward. The army of guards quickly surrounded the nurse, who began pushing Harry and the wheelchair towards the door, which Hayley and Manners were still glued to.

"Come on Hayley," Manners said suddenly breaking the painful silence, "We'll go to his cell and meet him there."

"But –"

Grabbing Hayley's arm gently the lawyer started walking her in the opposite direction of Harry, "He'll need us when he wakes up. We need to be waiting for him."

* * *

Five minutes.

Hayley fidgeted on her chair in Harry's cell. Manners stood leaning against the cold stone wall, watching for movement outside through the door window. The room was no longer in disarray as Hayley had cleaned it shortly after they arrived from running ahead of the guards and Nurse Cadence.

Eight minutes.

Her breathing quickened and her voice started to tremble. "I…I…I don't think he's –"

"He's coming," Manners snapped, "Be patient."

Twelve minutes.

Shadows caused from outside movement made Manners straighten off the wall and fling open the cell door expectantly. Hayley jumped at the abrupt action, her whole body on edge with worry. She watched as Cadence wheeled Harry in, saying something stupid like "See. No harm done."

Then the nurse left, closing the door, confining the three of them in the room. The sound of the guards and doctors leaving the area was still audible even from inside the cell. Manners and Hayley stared at the unconscious man in the wheelchair, unsure how to proceed.

Harry's wakening moans sprung the frozen pair into instant action.

"Get him on the bed, quickly," Hayley ordered, her medical training kicking in.

She watched Manners lift Harry's body from the chair and carefully laid him on the bed. Hayley filled a plastic cup that sat by the cell sink with water, before slowly sitting next to the crumpled body on the bed. As he came out of his unconscious state, she placed the cup near his dry cracked lips, helping him to drink.

"Where…where were you?" Harry whispered painfully between grateful gulps of water. He reached his hand up, slowly, touching Hayley's face tentatively, hardly believing that she was real. "You said…said you'd never leave me…" he questioned quietly, hardly aware of what he was really saying, "…I needed you."

Hayley could feel her heart breaking.

With tears in her sorrowful eyes, she placed a gentle palm softly against his cheek. Leaning forward, Hayley spoke earnestly in his ear, pleading for him to understand, "I'm so, so sorry Harry. I will _never_ leave you _ever _again. I… I lov…"

Getting too choked up to even form the words, Hayley moved her shaking face back above his, and carefully, kindly, pressed her lips against his.

* * *

They had fed Harry his medication and both watched in wonder as he slowly started to loose the green hue that had dominated his skin a few hours before. Hayley was confident in that moment that the pills had worked, that their properties had the ability to control his Goblin transformations. Whereas Manners was thoroughly convinced that the redhead had a remarkable effect on Harry.

After she had kissed him, Hayley had been crying too much to notice that the Goblin features started to fade, long before any medication had been administered. Sure, the medication had helped control Harry's outbursts in the week that Hayley had been away from him. But Manners now knew that she was far more important to Harry, to his health, to his wellbeing, than any of them truly realised.

It was now late evening; Manners and Hayley had left after two hours, both reluctant to but confident that he wasn't about to be tortured again. Manners had even phoned the judge and complained about Doctor Scott's actions. No more "stress therapy" would be administered to him for the duration of the trial.

Sitting calmly in a his chair, Harry looked up to the cracked mirror to see a man wearing a trench coat and a fedora enter his cell; the man's face was cast in shadow like always, his identity unknown bar his name; Gustav Fiers.

"Leave us," Fiers ordered, making Colin and another prison guard lock him inside with the young Osborn.

Colin looked like he was about to question the shadowy man but Manners, who had returned with Fiers, quickly stepped forward and gave a stern nod to ok the proceedings.

Harry waited until the door was closed, sealing himself and Fiers away from any spying ears before conversing with the man. "You've made progress," he stated, knowing that Fiers rarely made public appearances unless it was necessary.

"I've identified several worthy candidates. Now that Spider-Man's gone, this city, well, it will never be the same," the man responded, his voice low and gravelly.

"Oh, I'm counting on that," Harry smiled, cocking his eyebrow while trying to glance over his shoulder at Fiers.

Although he was usually no longer restrained in his meetings with Manners or Hayley, today's events saw security around his cell tightened, and that included his bindings and restraints being reinstated.

"Speaking of progress, you are looking better."

"It comes and goes," said Harry cynically, thinking how ironic that statement was. He looked at his reflection to see his eyes flash green, hearing the Goblin's manic laughter ringing in his head; oh the irony. "Tell me more."

"How many men did you have in mind?"

Shaking his head to rid himself of his inner monster, Harry tried to stay focused, "I wanna keep it small. Everything you need is already at OsCorp, Special Projects Division." He paused. "I do hope Menken is being compliant with our little venture."

Fiers watched Harry curiously, thinking it odd how he seemed ever so slightly obsessed with his reflection; it was like the boy was staring at a stranger.

Moving forward slightly, Fiers continued, "He has been most helpful."

"Good, see that it stays that way, I won't have him fucking me over again," Harry muttered bitterly, not even trying to keep the anger from his voice. Changing the subject, he smiled a toothy grin, keen to know about the next stage of their plan, "Who's our first volunteer?"

"Aleksei Sytesevich. Currently serving a life sentence. He is…most eager to join us," informed Fiers.

"Ah yes, the man in Room 125. Good. Start with him."

"As you wish. I will be back next week to discuss further progress."

Harry nodded his approval.

"And Mr Osborn, good luck with the trial."

Watching in the mirror as the man in the shadows left his cell, Harry's jaw clenched, the strain of the upcoming trial starting to eat away at him. He had been relatively calm about it until now. Who knew how the results of today's torture would affect the court – would it put a spanner in the works? All his carefully calculated plans with Manners and Fiers could be undone. Harry refused to be confined to his cell any longer than necessary. Besides, when he was released, then the real fun could begin.

"_Time to play."_

* * *

"Order! This court is now in session. Today, Thursday May 15th, we are gathered in a court of law to decide the sentencing of one Mr Harold Theopolis Osborn, who is charged with one count of voluntary manslaughter, murder in the First-degree, and property negligence to the state of New York and city of Manhattan. How does the defendant plead?"

Harry sat on the uncomfortable wooden chair in the stocks, listening to the judge list off his crimes. His scanned the room, searching for a particular face, though noting how Manners had managed to keep the press out. When he couldn't immediately see a flash of red hair he began to feel angry inside. Clenching his fists behind the stand, Harry felt someone far more familiar staring at him.

On the back row sat Peter Parker.

"How does the defendant plead?" the judge asked again.

Looking directly at Peter, his gaze as cold as his icy blue eyes, Harry smirked, "Not guilty."

* * *

**I think I just died guys! This chapter has killed me! Loved writing it, but damn so much action to write down!**

**Poor Hayley. I think we got some good insight into her mind during the graveyard scene, though I do feel bad that she's going through hell right now. As much as I don't want Hayley to be a sad OC, from my own experiences, I feel that the strongest people often have endured hardships in their life. I've always thought that people who cry and show their emotions tend to be strong – it's hard to show your emotions in public because others may perceive you as weak. Don't know how you guys feel about that, whether you agree or not, but that's my reasoning for Hayley's character arc so far – she will get stronger though!**

**And…. AHHHHH! I just bought Amazing Spider-Man2 dvd early release on iTunes! Died and went to Harry heaven and fell in love all over again! It's so nice to finally have the film when I've been writing this fic from seeing it once at the cinema!**

**Anyways, I hope this chapter was epic for you and worth the wait! You guys are the best and your response to this story always leaves me amazed! I am metaphorically buying you all chocolate and grant you wonderful Harry filled dreams – you deserve it! LOVE XXX **


	17. Chapter 17

**I do not own Marvel, The Amazing Spider-Man 2, or any character affiliated with the franchise. There is a scene from the movie referenced in this chapter, it is merely needed to aid the plot and I do not make any profit for including it. **

**WARNING: This fic is rated M, not just for smut but also for adult situations, language, violence, and drug abuse. There is a scene depicting rape themes in this chapter– sorry if it offends.**

* * *

"But, I don't understand," she stated, thoroughly confused, "Does he not want…of course he doesn't want me there." Hearing a frustrated sigh on the other end, Hayley clutched tightly at her cell phone.

"Look, I'm going to be frank; Harry wants you at court, heck, he needs you there," growled Manners impatiently, his irritation crystal clear through the receiver. "However, he does not fully understand the implications of your presence. We want to win this case."

Hayley bit her lip knowing exactly what the lawyer was implying. "I said I'd never leave him, he'll feel abandoned," she begged quietly.

"Harry will need you more _after_ he is released. Only come when you are required to make a statement, otherwise, stay _away_."

"Ok."

"I know you mean well Miss Carmichael but it'll do more harm than good. Trust me, I'm a lawyer," said Manners curtly before abruptly hanging up, no doubt eager to get back to court.

Hayley put her cell back in her lab coat pocket and sighed heavily.

The early morning air was cool outside in the courtyard of Ravencroft institute. Having heard her phone ringing, Hayley had answered the call quickly, halting her from entering the work place. She had left Manners a voice mail late last night about whether or not to drop into court during her lunch break and after work. However, it was now obvious that it was a bad idea if she showed her face.

It was strange; Hayley had been treating Harry for five months and had become deeply involved in his affairs. Yet, she was still reluctant to admit to herself of the strong feelings she felt towards her patient. Hadn't she nearly utter the word "love" when he was broken before her?

All her time and energy was spent focused on rehabilitating him, working hard to make him well. And why? So that he would ultimately be released from Ravencroft. Hayley hadn't, until now, really thought about what that truly meant; Harry would no longer be at the institute. He would be free and she would no longer treat him. She would not only loose a patient but loose the most stable, if complicated, relationship she'd ever had with another person other than Gwen.

Harry's release would change everything. And Hayley wasn't sure if she would like that change, because then she would be alone once more. For, without need of a nurse or psychiatrist, Hayley was nothing to Harry.

Wasn't she?

* * *

The trial was a lengthy and boring affair, and if his freedom weren't on the line then Harry would probably not be paying close attention to the proceedings.

He was currently sitting in the Witness stand watching Manners and the District Attorney battle it out during their cross examination of him and the events of five months ago.

Harry had kept faithful to the story concocted by Manners; he explained about the loss of his father and the weight he felt on his shoulder of being the only heir of a company as big as OsCorp. He even spoke about his downward spiral of depression at not being worthy of the role of CEO. And that he had felt compelled to fight against Electro if it meant saving the work his father had spent a lifetime building. The venom, an untested strength enhancer being developed for the army, all lies of course, felt like his only solution. Because how could a young man fight against a monster like Electro?

When he had spoken about knowing Gwen Stacy and his failure to secure her safety at the destroyed power plant, Harry had acted so well that he nearly willed himself to shed a tear. Looking up from behind his bangs after an award winning speech, Harry saw Peter leave the courtroom. It pleased him greatly to watch his old friend unable to jump in and correct the lies that he was spinning.

It was hilarious because Parker had to attend court to take pictures for The Daily Bugle. How the tables had turned, from taking pictures of himself swinging around New York to now photographing his enemy. The Goblin was laughing inside.

Harry had even used the Osborn charm to surreptitiously flirt with the women jurors, trying to convey that he was only a twenty-year-old boy and was deeply sorry for his alleged crimes. To his surprise it seemed to be working. Though he had an inclination that Manners had already paid off some of the jury.

Whilst he attended court, Harry was permitted to wear civilian clothing. Manners had bought him a new Armani suit and a paisley scarf to cover his neck – appearance was everything. The scarf concealed a persistent wound from his Retroviral Hypoplasia that the medication had not seemed to remove. The Goblin was under control but alas his condition still remained.

Manners had managed to deliver on his promise at having the severity of Harry's initial charges dropped to the lesser of involuntary manslaughter and Second-degree murder. The charge of property damage was one that the lawyer knew would not change and had decided to remain ignorant to it since Harry had enough money to pay for repairs.

The lawyer had even snookered the District Attorney's circumstantial evidence by calling the coroner to the stand to have the man explain Miss Stacy's cause of death. The DA had neglected to reveal the discovery of webbing on Miss Stacy's body, that she had in fact experienced whiplash and a head injury, which had resulted from her body being pulled sharply just before she hit the ground. The coroner was adamant about his findings, not wanting his reputation tarnished and job security in question.

Manners had then questioned Harry again about the Spider-Man webbing, who confirmed that Gwen had been pulled off his glider and down into the clock tower by the use of webbing. Harry also explained that before he was knocked unconscious by Spider-Man, he saw Gwen falling and was unable to save her. Though he was unsure if the girl had already sustained her injuries and died after being snatched from his glider or from her final fall down the clock tower shaft.

"Thank you Mr Osborn, you may step down," ordered the judge. When Harry had taken his seat, the old man grabbed his gavel, "I think a short recess is in order -"

"Judge Morris, if I may, I'd like to call another witness to the stand," interrupted Manners.

The Judge leaned forward over his bench with his eyebrows raised in disbelief, "Do you mean to tell me that you have _another_ witness to the murder of Gwendolyn Maxine Stacy?"

"Of course."

"Then by all means, take the floor Mr Manners."

The lawyer sauntered over to the witness stand, which was now empty, and placed his hand on the wooden box before turning to address the courtroom. He could feel all eyes trained on him and he took great pleasure at seeing the District Attorney's leafing through their papers, trying to discover whom he could be referring to.

"Judge Morris, jurors, esteemed public; my client has been questioned and cross examined by the DA, whose evidence not only have I rebuffed and disputed, but clarified in revealing to you the true cause of death as documented in the coroner's report," Manners projected slowly, letting everyone drink in his every word as he paused for effect. "There was one other who witnessed the murder of Gwendolyn Stacy, one who I deem fully responsible for her death, and should be held accountable for his crimes, not only against the Stacy family but in letting the blame lie with my client, Mr Osborn, an innocent and good Samaritan.

"I call to the stand non other than the masked vigilante himself; Spider-Man."

There was a pause with the spectators and jury looking at each other questioningly, thoroughly expecting the hero to swing down from the ceiling.

"You see," continued Manners, raising his voice to demand the room's attention once more, "The true crime here is allowing a citizen of New York to parade around in a costume and meddle in police affairs. No man is above the law, and that includes Spider-Man. Is he not a man? A man in a mask? A vigilante, yes, but still a citizen. His identity is unknown and that, ladies and gentleman, is why he is a menace! Will you allow for my client, Mr Osborn, to be wrongfully sentenced for a crime with evidence of Miss Stacy's demise pointing towards Spider-Man?

"By our laws, every criminal is guilty until proven innocent. So, Spider-Man, why don't you come to this courtroom and defend your _innocence_? Will you stand forward as a key eyewitness and give us your account of events, give us your evidence to prove that you are indeed not the guilty party?"

There was a disbelieving silence.

Manners walked back towards his table where even Harry looked shocked.

"No? Well, I think you'll all agree that Spider-Man is not our so-called friendly neighbourhood hero if he refuses to give up his precious anonymity, to corrupt and falsify the jury's final decision for this case. I accuse Spider-Man of the murder of Miss Stacy, and if he does not appear in court to defend his actions then, well, I guess actions speak louder than words don't they?" the lawyer finished, sitting beside his client in triumph.

The courtroom descended into deafening chaos.

* * *

"Mr Osborn."

"Ahhh, Mr Fiers," said Harry looking over his shoulder, "We must stop meeting like this."

"I sat in on yesterday's court hearing –"

"Mmm? Yes, I noticed."

"You must be pleased with how it is going. Your lawyer is very impressive, a true master of his domain," Fiers commented quietly, remaining in the shadows by the cell door.

"The best of the best money can buy," Harry said cheerfully, waggling his head like he'd repeated that phrase way too many times in his youth – rich boys could always afford the best.

"I've been down to Special Projects, seen the best money can buy. Your father had a talent in delegating his money wisely too."

Harry made no comment so Fiers continued.

"The mechanised Rhinoceros suit appears suitable for Project Sinister – "

"Sinister?" Harry grinned manically at himself in the mirror, "I like that."

"- the machine guns and battle armour will appeal to the Russian, Sytesevich."

"No doubt he will cause much damage and destruction," Harry smirked, the Goblin gleefully jumping for joy inside at the impending chaos. "Tell me Fiers, how will Sytesevich use the suit when he is locked up a few cells away from me?"

He watched in the mirror as Fiers knocked on the glass and Colin reopened the mechanised door for him, seemingly leaving without offering an answer.

Fiers peered over his shoulder, "Don't worry Mr Osborn, I'll take care of the Russian," he whispered, just enough for Harry to hear.

Turning back to the exit, Fiers nearly fell over, having bumped into a tiny figure with striking copper hair.

Hayley squeaked and eyed the shadowed man cautiously, suspicious vibes radiating off of him. She stepped back and allowed him leave the doorway, strolling quietly up the passageway. The weirdest thing about the stranger was that Hayley had been unable to see his face and thus couldn't get a read of his personality. Either way, she didn't trust him.

Walking into Room 136, Hayley asked with interest, "The Russian?"

"It's a drink doll, the White Russian. I need a stiff celebratory drink when I'm released," Harry said jauntily, turning in his chair and giving a mock toast whilst clutching an invisible glass.

"I guess I'll allow you one drink," she chastised fondly walking further into his room.

"You'll _allow_ me?"

Blushing terribly, Hayley started to stammer, "I mean, well, you know, with the drugs you're on…erm…alcohol really isn't wise. Besides, you're underage!"

"Yes… I am aren't I?" Harry mused rubbing his chin, remembering suddenly that the girl before him was only a year older, though she looked so much younger. "I only need one Russian… just one. Promise," he purred with a devilish grin.

* * *

Manners was sitting in a sparse yet official looking room within the courthouse, waiting. He was thoroughly exhausted after a five hours session of questioning, cross-examining and taking statements from the workers of Ravencroft, OsCorp employees, and Hayley.

He was proud of the young nurse who had shown Harry true loyalty on the stand. She had read out her medical assessment of Harry, explained her role in their sessions and mentioned how he had improved and flourished during his time at Ravencroft. The girl hadn't forgotten any of the key points Manners had briefed her own that morning, even uncovering psychological explanations for Harry's "goblin-like" behaviour without revealing too much of his personal issues and affairs.

The three other psychiatrists that Manners had paid for also gave their medical opinion of Harry, certifying him as a sane and reformed individual.

Of course the DA had called Doctor Scott to the stand to give dangerous evidence against Miss Carmichael's intent in helping Mr Osborn. Manners hoped he had managed to objectify and use his powers of persuasion to squash the ridiculous claims of a sordid relationship between his client and the young nurse. Hayley herself had given a glowing and strong rebuff about the flaws behind the term "Erotic Transference". The other psychiatrists had also aided in supporting Hayley against the ridiculousness of the implied relationship.

Manners checked his Rolex impatiently before quickly smiling as Hayley knocked on the door and entered his makeshift office.

"Please sit down Miss Carmichael," said the lawyer, pointing to a comfy chair opposite him. He began shifting through papers on the desk in front of him.

"You look exhausted Manners," Hayley commented kindly.

"So do you," he retorted, noticing the dark shadows under her red and bloodshot eyes, "You did well in court, very well indeed, so don't cry over your performance."

"Was… was I ok?" she sniffed disbelievingly, "I didn't ruin the case did I? I tried to remember everything you told me to say, and I didn't look at Harry like you told me to. I tried to stay calm, really I did, but then after Doctor Scott said those things and I just –"

Manners held up his hand to stop her, "Miss Carmichael. Hayley. You couldn't have done _any _better. No one in that room believed that pompous twat, he sounded like a raving lunatic to be honest." He grinned sympathetically at her worries, "Now, I asked you here not to talking about today, but because you have some papers to sign."

Hayley smiled back at the lawyer in response, thankful to not have her actions in court judged further. "Oh, right, ok."

The lawyer pointed to three pieces of paper already laid out in front of her on the desk; the documents were on top of each other, though layered so that all three signature strips were on display.

Picking up an expensive fountain pen, Hayley looked across the table questioningly, "What am I signing?" She had skim read the first page and had no idea what it meant due to all the legal jargon.

"It's just a declaration that the evidence you presented today was true and that the reports you provided from Ravencroft have not been falsified or altered."

"Ok."

Hayley began writing out her short cursive signature on the first and then the second paper, trusting Manners' explanation.

"You'd do anything to ensure his freedom, wouldn't you Hayley?" he asked pointedly, staring as he watched the girl sign the last document.

Hayley looked up from her final signature and passed the papers back to Manners before nodding in agreement.

"Good," said the lawyer, locking the papers inside his briefcase. "Just making sure."

* * *

It was a week after Hayley had appeared in court and it would be another week until the final court hearing. Her experience in court had caused the atmosphere between herself and Doctor Scott to only worsen, with Hayley staying firmly in her wing and the Nurse's station. She had poured all her energy into her work, hoping and praying that the doctor would not fire her.

Money was tight again; her funds were drying out and with another rent due in just less than two weeks, Hayley desperately needed extra cash. Late night shifts at Ravencroft paid double and Hayley was determined not to be behind on her rent again. Which is why she found herself still at work at 1am with a growling and empty stomach, having forgone breakfast, lunch and dinner.

She took a sip from her fifth black coffee, shuddering at the bitter taste. The caffeine was not really working and Hayley felt her eyes fluttering closed.

An earth-shattering explosion ripped through the building.

Hayley fell from her chair, cold coffee spilling all over her desk and clothing. She remained on the floor until another blast brought her to her senses as the ground trembled beneath her.

Cheryl and Becca suddenly appeared at the door looking panicked and frightened. They rushed to their own desks and grabbed their expensive purses before heading out to leave.

Reaching for Cheryl's arm, Hayley stopped her and asked urgently, "What's happening? What's going on?"

The blonde had tears in her eyes and was as white as a sheet. "People…men…the army, I don't know!" she shrieked hysterically.

"We were in the West wing and then a bomb or something went off and there were guns like shooting people like dead, so we ran!" Becca babbled, trying to pull Cheryl away and out the exit.

"The West wing?"

"Yes Haley! Freaky men in suits were looking for someone or something. Who cares anyway, let's go!" explained Becca, before another tremendous boom rocked the walls around them, causing her and Cheryl to scream and flee the room.

Hayley stayed were she was, thoughts dashing through her mind. Strange men were looking for someone in the West wing…

"Oh my god, Harry!" she spoke aloud.

What if they were after him? Or, what if he tried to escape? What if this was an escape attempt? She had to stop him. Hayley had been truthful when saying to Manners that she was prepared to do anything to ensure Harry's freedom. If that meant preventing him from ruining all their hard work in court by stopping a criminal act, then so be it.

Running as fast as she could, Hayley dodged falling debris as she raced through the labyrinthine corridors. Staff and inmates alike were bolting this way and that whilst guards were trying to control the chaotic situation. The air was laced with fear with everyone making his or her way to the nearest exit. But not Hayley.

She was determined to find Harry.

There was a lot of smoke surrounding the West wing; dust and brick littered the ground, the strip lights flickered with uncertainty, and the deafening wail of the Ravencroft alert alarms hurt her ears. The once recognisable and familiar corridor was in a state of disarray. And although the alarms were ear-splittingly loud, the wing was eerily quiet. All Hayley could really hear was her heart thumping in her chest and her unsteady breathing. Something was not right.

_Where was everyone? _She wondered.

It looked like this wing was hit the worst and it appeared devoid of any human life, bar the timid redhead. Prisoners and guards were seemingly nowhere to be seen.

Hayley noticed that, like the other wings she had passed, all the cell door locks had been released. A corridor of open doors awaited her and Hayley had no idea if all the prisoners had vacated the area already. She only hoped that she could catch Harry before he escaped.

In the distance, the entrance to Room 136 had its door swung wide open like the others. Hayley was relieved to see that other than Harry's cell door, the end of the corridor was virtually untouched. The passage was a straight line; all she had to do was run.

"Please be there please be there," Hayley prayed under her breath.

She darted down the passageway, jumping over rubble and weaving around the open doors. Cell 125 was blown open, a gaping hole where the wall and door had previously been. In shock she stopped to inspect the damage, completely in awe of the violent destruction – there was nothing recognisable left.

"They must have wanted Aleksei Sytesevich," Hayley whispered – she had no idea who "they" was but _someone_ had planned this.

A small scraping sound of approaching footsteps on dirt caused Hayley to turn sharply. Behind the way she had just came was a shadowy figure parting the smoky dust like a divine being.

"H…Harry?" called out Hayley nervously, "Is that you?"

The mysterious man walked forward into the light, his nail bitten hands jittering frustratingly by his sides.

"No. But I could be," smirked Kinsey, rolling is tongue slowly across his top lip in an overly suggestive manner.

His breathing was erratic and loud like he'd just run a marathon. But Kinsey didn't look exhausted. If any thing, he looked alarmingly alive, a predatory glare in his wide perverted eyes.

Suddenly afraid, Hayley gulped, "Now, Kinsey, I think maybe you should go…go wait in your cell for –"

"Oh but where's the fun in that?" the criminal pouted with pretend sadness cloaking his features.

"I'm going to count to three and I want you to be back in you cell," Hayley said clearing the hesitance from her voice. "One…"

Kinsey exaggerated his pout.

"Two…" she continued, standing her ground.

Still, no movement.

Hayley looked the man right in the eye, "Th-"

"THREE!" Kinsey yelled his voice echoing in the dim hallway.

He didn't move.

She didn't move.

Taking a step forward, Kinsey raised his arms in the air expectantly, "Ready or not. Here. I. Come!"

* * *

It had been quiet since the initial thunderous boom. The violent and unnatural sound informed Harry that his and Fiers' plan had blasted into motion.

When the high-tech door to his cell opened of its own accord, Harry had been rather surprised. Fiers and Manners had decided to disclose only the bare minimum of information regarding the extraction of the Russian criminal, Sytesevich. That way, Harry could react naturally if the techs they'd employed for this mission failed to neutralise the security cameras – the less Harry new about the assault the better. Nothing could be traced back to the Osborn or to OsCorp if the future of Project Sinister was ultimately to succeed. Harry's freedom had to be done by the book, secured through the American justice system.

So when the option of freedom by other means was presented, Harry just laughed manically and sat back on his bed.

That was some thirty minutes ago and all he could hear was that irritating Ravencroft alarm. He felt like his ears were bleeding it was so piercing.

"_I bet_ _its pure chaos out there! Let's go have a look, have some fun, ay Harry?" _the Goblin suggested, thoroughly sick of their inactivity over the past months.

"Fun comes later. We'll let Fiers' team handle whatever's out there," Harry said dismissively, deciding it was time for a nap.

Then he heard a familiar scream.

* * *

She was cornered in Room 130.

After dashing away from the chilling criminal, Hayley had been caught easily; her measly stick like limbs no match for an aggressive well-built madman.

"I've been waiting a long, long, long, _long,_ time for this MJ," Kinsey growled, yanking the girl towards him violently, trying to force a kiss upon her lips.

Hayley shrieked in terror before slapping at her attacker, clipping him fully across the face.

"You stupid BITCH!"

Kinsey smacked her and threw Hayley to the ground with such force that white-hot pain bloomed on her head. He snarled and shoved the girl further onto the ground as he put one knee upon her back to prevent her from moving.

"HARRY!"

* * *

"Did you hear that?" Harry asked, sitting bolt upright.

A chill had crept into his skin when he heard the initial scream and the feeling only intensified upon hearing his name.

"_You're seriously loosing it! Hearing things again? This insane act is pissing me-"_

"HARRY!"

"_Is that Ginge?"_ the Goblin asked incredulously, a hint of panic in his gruff voice.

"HAR-"

The disembodied scream was cut short.

Deciding to investigate, Harry left the safety of his cell, knowing deep down that something was wrong. He carefully walked up the corridor, looking in each empty cell as he went. With no more noise other than the blasted screeching alarm, Harry almost turned back around to return to his room.

Almost.

A heart-wrenching sob echoed two cells away, Room 130, and Harry quickened his pace.

The scene he walked in on ignited a fiery green anger deep inside.

Hayley was lying face down on the concrete, her tears staining the ground as she let out inaudible sobs through shallow shaky breaths. A disgusting meaty hand held her face firm against the dirty floor. Her once bright eyes were now glassy, hollow and empty; she looked straight through Harry as if he were invisible.

That scummy brute, Kinsey, was leaning his body over the redhead, sniffing at her dishevelled hair whilst scrambling franticly with the buttons and fly of his prison jumpsuit.

Her face had had lost its brightness; Hayley looked defeated and broken. She was barely moving, her earlier attempts of freedom evident on her face. Along with the tears, an ugly red hand shaped mark glowed on her cheek, fresh blood dripped down her forehead from a cut concealed by her hair. She may have seemed willing or compliant in her stillness but Harry knew the girl was screaming inside. Hayley's knuckles had turned bone white in silent resistance as her nails dug into the stone beneath her.

At least Harry found a small sense of relief to see that his nurse was still fully clothed.

Kinsey was too busy focusing on undoing his fly to even notice Harry's appearance until he felt a smashing blow to his face. The criminal stumbled back, falling to the floor, away from Hayley.

"What the fu-"

Harry kicked the bumbling idiot in the face, delighted to see blood spurt and shattered teeth decorate the grey cell. As Kinsey clutched at his messed up jaw, Harry decided to kick the bastard where he knew it would hurt. The criminal yelped and reached down to his pained groin.

"_NEVER. TOUCH. WHAT. IS. MINE_!" the Goblin snarled, whilst connecting his foot with any part of the creep's body between in each word to emphasise their importance.

Pure rage filled Harry's mind and he began to feel a sick amount of pleasure at beating the grubby criminal to a pulp. He kept kicking and kicking and kicking, until he heard a rib bone snap. Harry ignored the cries coming from his victim. The bastard had this coming.

The Goblin decided to end this.

Hauling Kinsey up by the shoulder, Harry bashed him against the nearest wall, holding up the exhausted and bloodied man. Harry kneed him in the balls again before grabbing his bloody face and smacking the man's head backwards. A sickening crack resonated above the heavy breathing.

"Harry?" came a soft broken voice.

Still holding the semi-conscious inmate, Harry turned to see his girl standing on unsteady feet, trembling, holding onto the wall for support.

"Go to my cell and wait for me there," Harry said firmly.

Hayley nodded and shuffled towards the exit, its door still wide open.

Before leaving the room, she stopped by her saviour and placed an uncertain hand on his shoulder. Her eyes were blank and her was voice cold as she whispered, "Make it hurt."

Grinning widely at having the redhead's permission, the Goblin responded, "_It will Ginge, have no doubt about that."_

His blue eyes clouded vibrantly green, and they followed Hayley as she exited the cell, turning right towards the safety of his room. The Goblin twisted back to focus on his victim, smashing the bastard's head against brick until there was nothing left but mush.

* * *

She was resting on his bed, curled into a protective ball, staring blankly at the wall opposite trying desperately not to blink. If she closed her eyes then his disgusting face would be bearing down on her. Maybe, just maybe, if Hayley counted the bricks opposite then her lids would stay open. There was no way for her to kid herself that this was all a dream. It was as real as the blood drying on her forehead. It was as real as the pain in her throat from screaming.

It was all real.

But Harry was also real and he was standing before her now, strong and stoic. His hair was matted with a mixture of blood and sweat which made him look dangerous and sinister. Hayley knew he was anything but; in this instant he was her protector, he was her everything.

Without taking her eyes off the bricks she was fixatedly counting, Hayley tentatively reached out her quivering hand towards Harry's blood-stained one. She laced her fingers between his, trying hard to ignore the clotted stickiness that coated them. Her breathing began to ease and her eyes closed for a split second, comforted by his presence. She wasn't alone in this; he was here for her.

"Is he dead?" she asked blankly.

"_He can never hurt you again_," the Goblin murmured softly.

"Good."

"_Are you hurt_?"

She squeezed his hand in response.

Gently, Harry used his free hand to coax the girl from being curled into sitting up right on his bed. He checked the red mark on her cheek that was slowly fading. His fingertips softly brushed aside her auburn hair to inspect the shallow gash. The bleeding had stopped and it thankfully wouldn't need stitches. Harry wished he could take away the pain he couldn't see, fix the invisible wounds that no doubt had already infected her mind.

The hand that held hers never let go.

When he tenderly brushed away the tears from her lashes, Hayley flinched, suddenly scared to be close to a man.

"Hush doll, it's me," Harry whispered soothingly.

"He…he tried to…I tried but…he was just so…I didn't know what to do…" Hayley babbled, words incoherent from the fresh tears that threatened to fall.

"You did the right thing Hayley."

"I did?"

"You called for me, didn't you? Because you knew I would protect you."

Hayley nodded. She felt slightly ashamed to have screamed his name aloud, knowing that it probably revealed her feelings for him on a psychological level. But there was no one else.

There was only Harry.

"I will always protect what's mine. My hope deserves to stay pure," Harry said kindly with a genuine smile, "And golden." He plucked a soft strand of her hair between his fingers and stroked it fondly, "You should go, before anyone catches you in here with me."

Fear clouded her eyes again, "I don't think I can, I'm scared, I –"

"I want you to go to a supply closet and get me a clean jumpsuit – destroy my dirty one. Then you will go to a bathroom, clean you face and head, and go find your way to safety. No one will need to know what happened tonight - it will be our little secret. Right?"

Another silent nod.

"_That's my girl, hmmm?"_ murmured the Goblin softly, brushing his thumb over her plump bottom lip possessively. "Now go."

Standing unsteadily, Hayley slowly walked away from Harry, still holding his hand. She was fearful to break contact until the last possible second.

Then, she did as she was told, following Harry's instructions to the letter.

* * *

The trial had been on a two-week hold since the break out of Aleksei Sytesevich and Ravencroft's security breech. Various rumours had surfaced, not only in the institute but also outside its tall walls, among the citizens of New York. The Daily Bugle reported non-stop about the unknown dangers hidden deep inside the institute. Not only had Sytesevich escaped but also ten other criminals during the daring and explosive raid. The death of the redhead rapist, Kinsey, had made the papers, though became quickly buried beneath heated debates and criminal propaganda.

The media dubbed the explosive event as "The Ravencroft Raid".

The criminal act had even knocked the Osborn trial off The Daily Bugle's front page. With the police commissioner refusing to release the names of the newly freed criminals, the media was feeding its readers a public service by reporting everything they knew. Every lead, every speculation, every fear was written in black and white.

Many articles focused on the absence of Spider-Man – where was New York's masked hero? Although petty crime and street attacks had increased since the vigilante's disappearance, the raid was the biggest criminal event to happen since Electro and the Goblin appeared five months ago. News reporters and the public were divided on their love for Spider-Man.

Their hero had not returned.

Consequently, on the same night as 'The Ravencroft Raid', OsCorp had been broken into as well. Numerous weapons and specialist military grade equipment had been stolen, though none of this information was released to the public. Only the mayor, police commissioner and the army had been notified of what had been taken – OsCorp was good at keeping their business secret. This subsequent break in meant that the newspapers did not even speculate whether or not the Goblin, Harry Osborn, may have been involved with either criminal act. Why would a billionaire break into their own company? Besides, it was reported that the Osborn boy hadn't even attempted to escape from Ravencroft that night.

Ignoring the many report controversies, the Ravencroft institute was trying to carry on as normal; armed security and dog patrols were doubled, no prisoner was allowed to go anywhere without at least two guards, the US army had supplied a specialist task force team, and maximum security inmates were confined to their rooms, their privileges stripped for safety reasons. The only high security prisoner who retained their canteen meal freedom was Harry Osborn. His lack of an escape attempt during the breakout had not gone unnoticed.

Manners had reported this good behaviour to the court judge who had allowed Harry to keep his privileges. The lawyer was extremely happy that these criminal events would work in their favour at court.

* * *

Hayley was on canteen duty again.

She was happy to be in a large crowd and not alone patrolling dark corridors with strange shadows that made her think that Kinsey was lurking around every corner. The redhead was constantly on edge and had been since that night. Even her medication would not allow Hayley to sleep undisturbed by nightmares. Being alone in her tiny apartment no longer felt safe and she had been spending more time at Ravencroft, regardless of whether she was paid for working extra shifts or not. She hadn't even ventured to see Harry, because going down that corridor meant walking past Kinsey's old cell. The only time Hayley dared to seek out Harry was at meal times, when she would sneak sideways glances at him. He never looked at her, not even once. This made her sad but it was a comfort just to have him close by, to know that he was there.

It was well into the lunchtime shift at Ravencroft and Hayley was leaning against a wall, staring into space.

"…live on Park Avenue and 56th Street where it is complete chaos.… sort of mechanised armoured suit is wreaking havoc on Midtown…"

The lively lunchroom became deathly silent.

No one moved, other than to turn and direct their full attention to the forty-inch TV screen that usually provided background noise throughout the day. A prisoner nearest the remote turned up the volume.

On the screen was a bleak picture of Park Avenue, half destroyed, with a strange metallic silver _thing_ dominating the street. A small opening appeared in the metal monstrosity, revealing the grinning dirty mug of former prisoner and escapee Aleksei Sytesevich.

"I am the RHINO!" boomed the television speakers, broadcasting the recognisable voice with its strange Russian lilt. Large titanium machine gun arms raised in triumph before bullets tore into the surrounding cop cars.

A murmur spread through the prisoners. Some voiced quiet cheers, rejoicing to see one of their own free to cause untold damage. It made Hayley quickly feel sick to be surrounded by such barbaric people. It was easy to forget that her patients' were hardened criminals when they complied with Ravencroft's rules. She had no doubt that were any one of them back on the streets then they'd be shooting at the cops too.

The bullets made the televised vehicles look like Swiss cheese, their attack causing explosions. Hayley put her hands over her ears as the noise caused flashes of the raid and Kinsey to appear before her eyes.

She searched for Harry's face in the room, hoping that his familiar confident demeanor would calm her. The Osborn boy was sat slanted away from the screen with an air of great disinterest. He was even casually playing with a fork, twisting it between his fingers like a drummer performing a trick with their drumstick. To anyone else, Harry seemed greatly bored in comparison to the other inmates. However, Hayley wasn't so fooled. She noticed his eyes flicking towards the screen whenever a fresh explosion echoed, one of his eyebrows raised in interest rather than unconcerned boredom.

"Look New York, Spider-Man is back," mocked the metal Rhinoceros.

At the Russian's statement, Harry turned sharply, the vein on his eyebrow pulsing wildly as his hand instantly clenched around his fork. Upon seeing a small child in a costume run forward into the carnage, he smiled and rolled his eyes before turning back to mastering fork twirling. A small chuckle released from his upturned lips and his body visibly relaxed.

"…Aleksei scare you little boy?" the speakers boomed.

Tears tumbled down Hayley's cheeks – she did not want to watch a child die. That dear boy was so brave! How old was he? He looked younger than ten. Such courage. Something she'd never had…

He was tiny on the TV screen, an innocent, looking almost alien standing amongst destroyed cars and shattered glass. Every one was hiding, the cops unsteady with their authority and handguns, knowing that they were no match for the colossal metal beast.

New York needed Spider-Man to save them. And here was a child in their hero's mask; a symbol of unwavering hope.

Everyone waited on baited breath, uncertain how the scene would unfold.

Cheers unexpectedly erupted from the televised crowd as a lithe figure in red and blue spandex, the real Spider-Man, swung down and took his place at the brave boy's side. Chants of "Spidey. Spidey," were joyous and full of renewed faith as New York's hero had finally returned after five long months of absence.

Even some of the prisoners looked a little reassured. Though many were put in Ravencroft by Spider-Man, there was a strict honour among criminals when it came to harming children. Many of the convicts who were child murderers and molesters had to be kept separate from the others for their own safety.

"You fight me? You fight me now?" exclaimed the Rhino.

Picking up a megaphone, Spider-Man addressed the criminal, "On behalf of the fine people of New York and real rhinos everywhere, I ask you to put your mechanised paws in the air."

Hayley let out a small audible cry of relief; she had never been so happy to see another human being in her life. Except for when Harry had saved her...

She shook those thoughts quickly from her mind, clocking eyes with Colin across the room who grinned back at her in response to Spider-Man's return. The guard's eye was black from the fights that had occurred when Sytesevich had escaped.

"Never! I crush you! I kill you! I destroy you!" Sytesevich bellowed in response.

The canteen was still relatively quiet as everyone watched the Rhino racing towards Spider-Man, firing missiles and bullets as the two engaged in a raging battle. With attention still on the TV, only Hayley noticed when the small clang of a fork hitting the ground provided a change in sound compared to the booming speakers. The fork's owner stalked angrily towards the double door exit, demanding to be taken back to his cell.

With Harry no longer in the room, Hayley felt vulnerable again. Her mind kept flashing back to rough grubby arms grabbing at her waist, a filthy hand suffocating her, then the all-consuming darkness.

Trying to stay calm and control herself from hyperventilating, Hayley decided to go to the bathroom and splash cool water on her face.

She passed a group of shady prisoners on her way out who were in deep conversation.

"Ya reckon it was the mafia that broke 'im out?" whispered a skinhead with missing front teeth.

The man beside him, who had had part of his ear bitten off in a prisoner fight during the raid, replied, "Russian mafia?"

"Yeah, 'cause Sytesevich is Russian in' 'e?" probed the skinhead.

"Mafia's good but not _that _good! Ya see that suit? Not their style," concurred the one-eared prisoner.

"Fuck me, I need one of those!" murmured a scrawny newbie in awe.

"God damn that lucky Russian bastard..."

Hayley stopped dead in her tracks, a seed of doubt blooming inside her. She felt uneasy, sick deep down in her stomach with clammy chills running through her body. Her mind went back to the conversation she'd had with Harry previously;

"_I only need one Russian… just one. Promise."_

The sinking sensation inside her only began to worsen. Was this purely coincidence or was Harry's choice of alcohol beverage a smooth lie about the subsequent breakout of Aleksei Sytesevich? She hadn't meant to over hear what he and the stranger were talking about. What if they had planned the break in?

The more she dared to connect the two events, the more Hayley became certain that something was amiss. The Rhino's armoured suit looked like something only OsCorp could build – it held similarities to the technology used for Harry's Goblin suit.

Hayley really didn't like where this train of thought was leading her, but she knew that only one person held the answers and she was going to demand them.

Now.

* * *

"Why would I have anything to do with raid the other week?" Harry responded as Hayley stood opposite him in his cell, her hands on her hips and a suspicious accusing look in her eyes.

"Well, did you?"

"I've been either locked in this cell or shackled in court. How could I possibly have been the one to orchestrate all this? Why would I steal from my own company or risk being linked to an out of control criminal like Sytesevich? It's really not my style doll. I've been a good boy. I didn't even try to break free last week when I had every reason to escape. No. I stayed in my cell and only left because I heard your screams. Imagine what would have happened had I not been there, hmm?"

Hayley looked away, trying not to think about what might have happened.

"The fact that you would even suggest any of this truly troubles me Hayley," said Harry angrily, walking towards the girl, needing to stop her doubt in him.

"_Besides,_ _who would believe you_?" sneered the Goblin grabbing her chin and squeezing it menacingly between his fingers so that she could only stare into his green tinged eyes.

"That little boy could have been killed," Hayley countered, "His blood would be on _your _hands. If you feel nothing for your actions then you truly are a monster!"

With a guttural snarl the Goblin shoved the nurse with his hand that gripped her chin, causing Hayley to fall backwards onto her bum. Before she could even cry out in pain, Harry reached forward and hauled her up so that her back as firmly placed against his chest.

"A monster? A monster! Kinsey was the monster!" Harry spat, all the while keeping Hayley's struggles under control with his inhuman strength. "To think he touched what is rightfully mine. Are you not grateful? Did you want me to let that monster rape you?"

"You know I didn't want that. Please, Harry, let me go!"

"_If I were a monster, I would have stood and watched," _the Goblin whispered.

Hayley let out a strangled cry, memories of her almost rape flooding back into her mind.

"Hush," Harry comforted, stroking the crown of her red head as her sobs began to die down. "You're emotional and I'm sure you didn't mean to call me a monster, did you?"

Harry's hand splayed out over her head, forcing Hayley to shake it in silent answer.

"Anyway, only a real monster would kill their own parents," he whispered.

Hayley froze.

Leaning even closer, if that were possible, Harry hissed into her ear, "I know your deepest, darkest, _fiery _secret Hayley."

Hayley began to visibly shake but remained frozen in place. How did he know?

Taking the opportunity, Harry pulled away from her so that he could circle round her quivering form. He was delighted when she stayed in place, smirking widely because the girl was too emotionally unhinged to notice that he had removed her baggy white lab coat. The piece of clothing now lay in a heap on the floor behind her. Harry noticed how tiny she was in a long sleeved black jersey top that clung to her scrawny body.

"How does a girl as young as ten survive the fire that killed her parents? Especially by hiding in a closet. Surely any one of that age would know to leave the house in those circumstances?" Harry commented aloud whilst circling the scared redhead, "Why hide in the closet, unless you wanted to die? A child with a death wish must have done something _truly _horrific."

"How…?" Hayley spluttered in disbelief.

_How did he know about the fire?_ She thought, her heart racing. _Had it finally happened? Had someone discovered her dark secret?_

"Manners. Besides, I'm an Osborn; I can get whatever information I want," Harry said smugly. "The cops may not have included it in their report but I have no doubt of your secret. I know _all _about you."

"You know _nothing _about me, Osborn," Hayley seethed angrily, rage igniting behind her eyes. She met Harry's gaze steadily, holding up her chin defiantly, standing her ground.

Then Harry did something completely unexpected.

His face visibly softened. He flipped his boyish bangs out of his now blue eyes and walked slowly towards her. Just as Harry began to invade her personal space, he held out his arms, encasing Hayley in a tight embrace.

With her arms pinned to her sides, Hayley was unsure how to react; the angry part of her was screaming to be away from him. However, the psychiatrist reasoned that this show of normal emotion and affection was incredible rare for Harry. So she decided to let go of the tension in her body and crumple against him. Besides, they could both do with a hug.

Just as Hayley began to close her eyes in ease, the hands that held her waist tightly, started to feel incredibly painful.

"Ha-"

"Shhhhh," whispered Harry firmly. Moving his head so that he could look into those wide innocent eyes of hers, Harry continued, "I know what it's like to want to kill your family. My father was incredibly cruel and I wished many times that he would die. Now his death has only brought out my inner darkness. You hide your dark side well, Hayley, but like me, you bare the physical scars."

Realising his intent, Hayley began trying to flee, panic filling her veins, "No! No, please, don't! DON"T!"

Readjusting one of his arms so that it now fell across the girl's shoulder blades effectively restraining her, Harry used his other hand to slowly slip underneath the hem her top at the base of her back. Her cool milky skin felt wondrous on his fingertips.

Although his caress was gentle, Hayley was too terrified to even notice. Every instinct was screaming for her to run.

Harry grunted at her nails digging into his shoulders as she scrambled for freedom. As delicately as he could his searching fingers slowly ascended.

"Please… stop!" Hayley whined quietly, the inevitability that someone would touch the most fragile part of her soul suddenly making her exhausted.

She stopped fighting – it was going to happen and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

Taking her stillness as compliance, Harry moved his hand faster, the rough pads of his fingers finding their desire. He had expected her burn scars to be callous and rough like his own skin lesions. Instead, Harry found that although the flesh was distorted it was as smooth as glass. It didn't feel like skin at all but like fragile wings; although Harry only touched a small part of the scar, he had read that it covered the whole of her back.

Definitely not the skin of a monster.

He wanted to explore more. To touch this beautiful and delicate girl that was covered in her own destruction. The Goblin was egging him on but Harry stayed firm in his decision to not take things further. There'd be time for further glorious exploration when he was free.

Harry removed his inquisitive hand and held the girl with both hands on her shoulders before pushing her away from his body. She looked numb, shell shocked, though still engaged enough for Harry to deliver the final blow;

"There are monsters inside us all, doll. You know mine. And now, I know yours."

* * *

The courtroom was silent as every occupant waited nervously for the jury to return with a verdict.

Hayley was standing at the back with Peter Parker who had his camera poised in readiness for the perfect shot to use on The Daily Bugle's front page. He had been in a foul mood ever since hearing about Harry's defence lawyer starting a smear campaign against Spider-Man in court. He had no doubt that Harry enjoyed it. After hearing him lie about caring for Gwen, Peter had had to leave the room.

Deep down, the guilt for his part in Gwen's death still festered.

He needed to hold on to his good memories of Gwen, remember her hope, and keep New York's hope in him alive, just like she wanted. This thing with Harry was more than Gwen. He had to rise above his suffering and be the hope that everyone needed him to be. Spider-Man still had a duty, still had a purpose to New York's citizens, and he couldn't let his pain dominate him any longer.

So Peter would become hope; he would keep fighting and failing and living… for Gwen.

When he had saved the young boy, Jorge, and battled the Rhino, the public and police force had cheered and supported him. It would take more than some big shot lawyer to ruin Spider-Man's reputation. Peter could only hope that the jury would punish Harry for his crimes as the Goblin and not be swayed by the enigmatic lawyer.

The door of the jury room opened with the chosen jury silently filed back to their box and took their seats. The Foreman remained standing.

"For the charge of property negligence to the state of New York, we the jury find the defendant… Guilty," spoke the Foreman, everyone hanging onto his every word. "We sentence Mr Osborn to a year of community service in the form of charity and fundraising to repair the buildings and property that he destroyed during his battle with Spider-Man."

There were a few confused mutters.

"For the charges of involuntary manslaughter and Second-degree murder against the deceased, Gwendolyn Maxine Stacy, we find the defendant… Not guilty."

The courtroom erupted into an uncontrollable frenzy.

"ORDER! ORDER!" bellowed the Judge, "Will the jury please explain to the court the terms of Mr Osborn's release."

"With Mr Osborn's plea of insanity and incarceration at the Ravencroft institute, he has already fulfilled themandatory clinical treatment and has now been declared sane, thus no longer posing a threat to himself or to the public," explained the Foreman.

The man licked his lips nervously before continuing, "However, we propose for Mr Osborn to undertake two month compulsory house arrest with his health monitored daily by an already appointed outpatient physician. This physician has an extensive knowledge in the case and has the trust and compliance of Mr Osborn, who has graciously offered to pay for further training if required to aid in his healthcare."

"Is the jury willing to release this physician's name?" exclaimed one too eager reporter in the spectator's front row.

"Has the physician signed all the papers?" asked the Foreman, directing his question to Manners who nodded in response. "The chosen personal physician is one of Ravencroft's finest employees. She holds a duel medical license to practice as a nurse and a psychiatrist, achieving a First class degree in Psychiatry, a Miss Hayley Carmichael."

Reporters hurriedly scribbled the name on their notepads.

Hayley felt her blood run cold and Peter stared at her incredulously.

"This doesn't make sense Peter," Hayley hurriedly whispered, "I didn't agree to any of this, I didn't sign anyth - " She stopped in horror at remembering the papers that Manners asked her to sign.

"You make me sick," Peter hissed before leaving the courtroom.

Sinking back into her seat, Hayley felt numb. She stared down at her hands in her lap, realising that she was just a pawn in all of this.

_How could she have been so naive? _

Hayley was lost in her thoughts that she hadn't realised that with the verdict given, everyone had vacated the courtroom. The judge had even left his seat and retired to his chambers – she was the only one left. The only one left, except for two smartly dressed men.

Harry grinned happily as he walked towards the redhead.

He was a free man once more... and Hayley was his.

* * *

**Bet you thought I was referring to Harry when I mentioned 'rape' in the warning!**

**I love you guys, like honestly! I know I made you wait for this one (evil me), but I just needed this chapter to be amazing and perfect for you! And I'm sorry the court stuff wasn't really in depth – I know nothing of Law, especially American Law, so I wrote as much as I could, and I hope I didn't disappoint!**

**The scene where Harry and Hayley have a confrontation and he touches her scars was taken from a dream I had right after I saw the film. That dream sparked this whole fanfic and I'm so happy to finally unveil that scene for you to read. **

**To my lovely guest who said Peter's misunderstanding attitude pisses them off – good! That's how I want him to seem, so I'm really happy you feel that way (no offence taken :D ). Peter is all sorts of messed up bless him, especially since, in my mind, he is partially responsible for Gwen's death in the film, and the guilt must be killing him. Guilt that's not properly dealt with can come out as anger and resentment – his development will be included in this fic too.**

**Everyone who has read, reviewed, favourited, followed, you are all amazing. I thank you for joining me on this journey, literally did not think anyone would read this, so I am truly thankful to ALL of you. Cannot wait to upload more chapters and keep you all on your toes! XXX LOVE**


	18. Chapter 18

**Featured song: **_Master of Puppets - _Metallica

**I don't own Spider-Man or any characters/plot point associated with the Marvel franchise blah blah, you know the drill. **

* * *

As he approached the bewildered girl with a predatory haze in his startling blue eyes, Harry undid his collar top button and eased his tie, adopting a confident swagger to his already poised walk.

He was free.

It was an immense feeling. A feeling that he couldn't quite place, but one that had him whistling in elation. He was free to do as he pleased, to take back control of OsCorp, to plant the corrupting seeds of Project Sinister.

Finally, he was free to seek revenge on Spider-Man. Sure, there would be many eyes watching his every move, just waiting for him to fuck up. However, Harry had eyes of his own stationed around New York and Manhattan, waiting to strike when the time was right.

Drawing ever closer, Harry could see that his psychiatrist was staring at the hands in her lap, mumbling the same word over and over to herself in a low voice – "_idiot"_.

It only made his smirk widen to know that his game of chess was getting under her skin. His little precious porcelain pawn was now bound to his chessboard, and he was curious to know what her next move would be.

The two men reached the final pew of spectator seats where Hayley was sat; she didn't move or look up but did stop mumbling. Harry knew she was aware of their presence, though choosing to ignore them for as long as possible.

_She probably thinks that if she ignores me that I'll go away,_ Harry thought, _surely she knows me better than that._

"Hayley," Harry commanded, putting his hand on the back of her seat. He leaned forwards so that his body towered over hers, invading her personal space.

Still she refused to acknowledge him.

"Hayley."

Nothing.

Harry scowled in annoyance and grabbed her left arm, dragging her up out of her seat, "Don't be petulant, doll. Come, we have much to discuss."

Hayley obeyed and allowed Harry to guide her by the arm from the courthouse with Manners following close behind. She didn't really have much choice but to go with them. Having failed to read the document she'd signed, Hayley only knew what the Foreman had disclosed in court about her new role as an outpatient physician. She vowed to read every inch of that document when she got her hands on it. And to reread that document meant going with Harry.

Manners was first to the courthouse door; "Brace yourselves," he said grimly before pulling hard on the handle, yanking the oak doors open.

A sudden burst of white light flashed before Hayley's eyes making her feel disorientated. Little blanched spots clouded her vision with constant sparkling flashes replacing those pinpricks of light that quickly faded. She stumbled slightly as a mass of reporters and photographers surged forward, desperate to get the perfect snap of the newly freed Osborn.

All Hayley could hear was a sudden hubbub of loud insistent voices, asking question after question, echoing around her from all directions.

"How does it feel to be free Mr Osborn?"

"Care to tell us about the deal of the century?"

"Do you think Spider-Man _is_ responsible for Miss Stacy's death?"

"Why do you think Spider-Man would frame you like this?"

"What are going to do now Mr Osborn? What's your next step?"

"Any words for The Daily Bugle, Mr Osborn?"

"Mr Osborn?"

"Mr Osborn?"

"MR OSBORN?!"

Harry stopped advancing towards the road and away from the swarm. Instead, he decided to face the eager reporters.

"I'm sure it will not surprise you to hear that I have no comment…" Harry spoke loudly with smirk. And when the quiet journalists began to mumble in dispute, he held up his hand, silencing them enough to say, "Other than…it's good to be free."

There was an uproar of noise, to which Harry simply flipped the bangs off his face before removing Ray-Ban aviators from his jacket pocket, and placing them expertly over his amused eyes. He tried to continue on over to the waiting Osborn black limo, not the usual Sedan, that was situated by the road. However, the crowd was so riled that any type of productive movement was impossible.

Turning to Manners, Harry gave a nod, to which the lawyer took out his cell phone. Flipping it open, the lawyer pressed speed dial and barked a few words down the speaker that were inaudible over the loud crowd. Even Hayley, who was practically sandwiched between the two men, could not hear what Manners had said. She was too startled by the press to notice that Harry was still holding her arm tightly.

Peeking between the sea of heads and cameras, Hayley looked to see how close they were to their destination; they were _still_ at the top of the courthouse stone steps, flagged either side by gigantic and magnificent lion statues. How were they ever going to descend the stairs with thirty odd people surrounding them?

A rather tall cameraman stepped back for a second, allowing Hayley to see two large and burly men dressed in dark suits emerging from the waiting limo. They fought through the crowd with ease, making a beeline for their trapped client and his two associates. The pair reminded Hayley of Colin, though more refined. Both had matching silver OsCorp logo patterned ties and OsCorp pins, making their black suit and white shirt ensemble appear more expensive and official. They also had wireless earpieces glued in their left ears.

"This way Mr Osborn," came the sharp voice of the six-foot tall bodyguard, situating himself in front of Harry, ready to push away any overenthusiastic reporter that got too close. "Mr Manners, Miss Carmichael, this way."

The other bodyguard, who had black-hair, positioned himself next to Manners. The lawyer nodded a greeting and murmured "Alright Pete," before placing his cell back into his pocket. The two stood side by side making up the rear of the quintet.

With the addition of the two rather imposing bodyguards, the sought after group were able to make steady progress down the courthouse steps.

"And who are you?" squawked a female journalist, bashing into Hayley's shoulder with a notebook whilst pushing a flashing camera into her face.

The tall bodyguard, James, held his arm out quickly, blocking the inquiring female from getting any closer.

"Erm, I'm Hayl - "

In a flash, Harry pulled the redhead away from the reporter and the bodyguard's intervening arm, "Don't say anything," he hissed in a low and quiet tone. Harry moved his grip from Hayley's forearm, placing a protective and guiding arm around her shoulders. "Stay close Hayley," he warned in her ear, his tickling warm breath causing the redhead to shiver and move closer to his body

Button clicks and flashing lights doubled their attack.

Hayley was too preoccupied with the surrounding paparazzi to think about the true connotations of having her picture taken. But Harry knew. He knew that his image would be on the front page of every major newspaper and magazine in the state. Harry understood the underlying judgments people would make at seeing an image of Hayley walking from the courthouse to the Osborn limo with Harry's arm slung over her shoulders; he'd been on many a front cover to know what the media fed off of.

A speculated unethical and unprofessional romance, oh, the scandal.

He and the Goblin liked chaos, and if it eventually brought Hayley closer to him, then so be it…baby steps.

They finally reached the limo. James opened the side door allowing Manners to slide in. Harry was next but at the last minute he held the top of the car door and slide his other hand down to the small of Hayley's back. Gently, he pushed her in ahead of him. The dark haired bodyguard, Pete, seeing that Harry was nearly free from the media, decided to take the opportunity to open the passenger door, sitting in front next to the chauffeur.

Before entering the limo himself, Harry turned one last time to look at the courthouse, lowering his Ray-Bans and peering over their top. He didn't pay any attention to the reporters. Instead he gazed towards the tall metal spire atop the courthouse. Harry saw Peter crouched upon the spire tip in his Spider-Man garb; he felt his ex-friend's judgemental and hate filled eyes bearing down on him.

Smirking widely, Harry finally entered the limo, with James following suit and closing the car door firmly behind them.

"Well, I think we all deserve a drink don't you?" Manners hummed happily as the limo started to move off down the road.

He removed three delicate glasses from the minibar and popped the cork on a very large and expensive bottle of champagne – it had little slivers of gold leaf sparkling in the liquid.

After passing out the flute glasses, surpassing James as he was on duty, Manners lifted his own and toasted, "To freedom!"

Harry mirrored the lawyer, draining his own glass, whilst Hayley mumbled and took a small sip in response.

After placing his glass back on the minibar shelf, Harry sat back against the luxurious leather seating, sitting much closer to Hayley than he was previously. He rested one hand on his knee and reached upwards with his right arm, smoothly placing his arm behind Hayley's neck, draping it around her shoulders. There was no nervous and unsubtly arm yawn like most teenage boys – Harry Osborn knew what he wanted and now that he was free, he could have it.

He felt the girl stiffen under his touch, so he slowly stroked her shoulder with his knuckles. Hayley relaxed slightly and sighed but then quickly downed her champagne, wrinkling her nose in disgust at its sickly sweet taste. She needed some liquid courage it seemed.

Harry took the empty flute glass from her small hands. "Do you not like champagne?" he asked whilst putting the glass on the minibar, "It is rather sweet, but the perfect customary celebration drink."

"I thought you'd prefer a White Russian," Hayley responded cynically.

She turned to finally look properly at Harry for the first time since they had left the courthouse. Then Hayley offered a sweet smile dripping with mocking under tones, knowing that Harry knew exactly what she was referring to. It probably wasn't wise to goad him, but she'd had enough of being made to look like a fool.

"Don't be sarcastic Hayley, it doesn't suit you," Harry snapped back, gripping her shoulder enough to cause her a small amount of discomfort.

The two then started bickering.

Manners relaxed into the plush limo seat and sighed heavily to himself; he thought there might be some backlash from Hayley once she realised what they'd done. Though, he was pleasantly surprised that she was verbally sassing Harry instead of him, especially since he was the one who tricked her into signing the binding document.

For now, Manners was content in watching the pair argue whilst he sipped on more victory champagne. As long as she didn't start on him…

"And you!"

_Damn,_ Manners thought.

"You had no right in making me sign those papers without properly explaining their content to me!" Hayley seethed, waggling an accusatory finger in the lawyer's direction.

"It's not my fault you failed to read them, you can't fight with me on this Hayley, you won't win. I _am_ a lawyer," Manners countered smoothly.

Hayley looked at the man exasperatedly, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration.

"I _did_ ask you if you would do anything to make sure Mr Osborn was freed," Manners reminded her, glancing over at Harry who had an uncharacteristic warm smile on his face, "And without your signature on that document, he would be back at Ravencroft."

"He would?"

Manners nodded.

"I knew I could count on you Hayley," Harry whispered in her ear, squeezing her shoulder so that her body inched even closer to his.

Then he gave her a quick but firm peck on the side of her head. He could smell the raspberry scent of her shampoo on her copper locks. A tingling warmth coiled deep inside Harry and he smiled to himself before looking out the car window.

Not really knowing how to respond, Hayley also cast her eyes towards the window and watched in silence at the buildings and cars zooming past in a blur. It was only when Hayley saw the corner shop where she bought her Pot Noodles, did she realise that the limo was in down town New York.

"Erm, where are we going? Why aren't we at the Osborn Manor yet?" she asked suspiciously, untangling herself from Harry's arm to get a better look out the window.

They were four blocks away from her apartment.

"What sort of person would I be if I didn't give you a lift home?" Harry said simply.

"But I thought – "

"I think we are_ all_ tired from court, don't you?" Manners interrupted as the limo came to a halt outside her apartment.

"_This_ is where you live?" Harry asked, shuffling to sit directly behind Hayley so that he too could stare at her apartment complex through the limo window.

Hayley blushed in embarrassment, "Yes. It's not much but you know, it's home I guess."

She moved away from the glass and unintentionally hit her back against Harry's chest, not realising he was so close. He felt warm and solid against her thin frame, and Hayley could feel his heart pulsing against her. The faint aroma of, no doubt, an expensive cologne ghosted to her nose as she felt herself getting lost in the comfort of being close to Harry again after so long…

Hayley quickly reached for the car door handle.

"I'll see you tomorrow then," Harry commanded with a smirk as he leaned back against the leather seating. He felt a sudden emptiness to not have her in his arms, though the warm tingling where she had touched him remained.

"Yes, tomorrow" Hayley called behind her as she stepped out of the limo.

Manners leaned forward and held his hand out towards the girl, "Here's my card. Come by the office after work tomorrow and we'll take it from there."

And after Hayley took his card, Manners shut the car door closed.

The limo didn't immediately move off until she had entered the building complex. All the while, Hayley could feel Harry's eyes looking intensely at her from inside the car. And he was not the only one. Many passers-by had stopped to observe the expensive car, not used to seeing such wealth in the area. Their judgemental eyes made Hayley feel very uncomfortable.

She made a mental note to never let Harry give her a lift home ever again – down town New York and wealth don't mix well.

* * *

Hayley glanced down at her watch, cursing herself because she was going to be late to work. Sleep had not come easy that night, making it extra hard for her to wake up this morning. She had even resorted to counting sheep to stop the endless thoughts of Harry invading her mind.

So being completely shattered this morning meant that Hayley had missed her usual subway connection, and the second and third because all the carriages had been full. Hayley had even tried to buy a newspaper on her way to the subway station but the corner store didn't have any. The one time she actually wanted to read the newspaper and they had all sold out! There wasn't even any spare lurking around on the subway; everyone in her carriage seemed to be reading a paper but her. Therefore Hayley pulled out her IPod and blasted some old school Metallica into her ears.

After the first three songs, she became very aware that many people in her packed carriage were staring at her, some even pointing and whispering. Hayley quickly turned down the volume on Master Of Puppets, thinking that maybe they could hear the heavy guitar rifts and insane drum beat. She didn't want people thinking she was some weird antisocial commuter. Though the staring was really starting to get on her nerves.

_Did she have some smudged makeup on her face?_

Even with the volume on low, the whispering and gawking persisted. When the person next to her actually prodded her arm and started mouthing what she presumed to be abuse, as she still had Metallica exploding in her ears, Hayley decided that she'd had enough. She stood and walked away from the weirdo before running out of the open carriage doors – fortunately the tube had stopped at the station before her usual one, which was only six blocks away from Ravencroft instead of two. Well, she was already late and a few extra minutes weren't going to make it any worse.

When Hayley finally made it to the Nurse's station in Ravencroft, everyone was already sitting at their desks, quietly working. No one looked up when she entered or offered their usual "hellos".

Odd.

From a distance, her desk was just how she'd left it the previous day, neat and tidy. Except for a lone newspaper, folded to show the front cover top story image.

That was even more odd.

Her heart fluttered inside her chest as Hayley carefully picked up the newspaper to see… her.

The Daily Bugle's top story, "Osborn Freed" was accompanied by a large coloured picture of Harry leaving the courthouse, his arm draped over Hayley's shoulders with his face turned to her, speaking in her ear. He had a charming smirk on his face and his crystal blue eyes were looking directly at her with an emotion that Hayley couldn't quite place.

Underneath their image was a sub headline "Mystery girl: Osborn's newest nurse girlfriend."

And painted directly below the title in red lipstick was the word "Whore" in crystal clear block capitals.

Hayley felt her mouth go dry and her stomach lurch as her eyes started to sting with tears.

"Who wrote this?" she asked loudly, spinning around wildly to stare at her colleagues.

Becca and Cheryl both looked at each other and started sniggering behind their hands, while Nurse Cadence silently sipped on her morning coffee avoiding any direct eye contact with Hayley.

Spying that the two giggling girls were both sporting red lips, Hayley sighed heavily in anger, and rustled the graffitied newspaper in their direction. "I'll ask you again. _Who _wrote this?"

"You did," Cheryl said spitefully with a nasty grin before catching Becca's eye and dissolving into catty laughter.

"I'm sorry?"

Cheryl turned in her seat and stood to face the redhead, "I said, _you_ did, Haley."

"My name is _Hayley,_ you stupid blonde idiot!"

"Oh, I know what your name is. Everyone in the state knows _your_ name and how much of a whore you really –"

Not wanting to hear any more, Hayley threw the scribbled newspaper at Cheryl's gloating face, and fled the room.

Becca screeched after her, "Who knew being _worthy_ was code for Osborn's personal fuck buddy…"

Rushing down corridor after corridor, Hayley noticed that just like the subway, all the other doctors and even some of the guards were staring at her and whispering. It was almost too much to handle but Hayley willed herself not to cry. She had someone to see before she lost her nerve and she could not cry in front of him. Hayley needed every ounce of courage left in her to speak with Doctor Scott.

When she entered the North wing, her heart was in her mouth and she had to swallow back the small amount of bile in her throat; it was one thing to _think _about talking with the doctor, but it was another to be in the same room as him, which hadn't happened since court. However, Hayley knew that if she was ever going to speak her mind, it was now.

With pure adrenaline keeping her from shaking, Hayley walked as confidently as she could towards Doctor Scott, who was speaking with Doctor Poland and a few lower physicians.

"Doctor Scott, could I please have a word with you in your office?"

Not even having the decency to turn towards her, Doctor Scott waved a dismissive hand in her direction.

Hayley swallowed thickly, "Now, please."

"I have nothing more to say to you than I did in court," the doctor said shortly.

"I am not here about that," she shot back, "I want to file a report against two nurses for their bullying and down right unprofessional behaviour towards me -"

"HA!"

"I'm sorry but what is so funny about that?"

"Let's be _professional_ here - this is not the school yard Miss Carmichael, we do not tattle on our fellow workers," Doctor Scott said cruelly, finally looking at her. "Well, not unless they're engaging in an unorthodox relationship, which by this morning's front page, I was right in my assumption. Not very professional of you."

"Professional? Professional!" Hayley shouted loosing her cool, "I have a Medical degree in Psychiatry, Doctor Scott, and I have taken courses in psychology, natural sciences and the three core sciences. Not only have I been through the same training as _every_ other doctor and nurse in this building, but my dual licence means that I am highly skilled in psychoanalysis and psychotherapy! _You_, Doctor Scott, have abused this training by hiring me as only a nurse and then making me use my degree to treat patients, _without _giving me a raise or promoting me to a resident and permanent psychiatrist.

"And why? Because _you_ dismiss the practise of psychiatry so that you can do as many weird and torturous experiments as you please. You have _used _me to only treat patients that are _required _by a court of law to have psychiatric treatment. There are no female doctors in this whole institute! Instead, you belittle us and force us into positions lower than our medical standing - "

"Excus –"

"I am NOT finished," Hayley yelled, silencing the older doctor. "You, Doctor Scott, are a sexist, sadistic, megalomaniac! _That _is my _professional _diagnosis of you!"

"Don't bother coming in tomorrow," Doctor Scott snarled, "Because you are fired!"

"Good! Working for you is beneath me," Hayley retorted, taking off her lab coat and slinging it to the floor in disgust. She placed her fallen handbag back onto her shoulder and stormed out of the North wing, thankful at having the final word.

She hated that man, despised him even. That pretentious bastard had it coming! Thank god she'll never have to see him again.

But when Hayley reached the foyer of Ravencroft and handed over her security pass, life suddenly became very real. Being fired meant never having to step back into the institute's haunting walls. And as she took a breath of fresh air upon exiting the building, Hayley felt like a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders; she was free.

She turned back to get one last look at the menacing building made of cold brick and steel; it was a cage that not only housed the criminally insane, but its walls concealed the secrets of monsters. Monsters that used the darkness of man to cause chaos and destroy the very men they used as conduits. Everyone is capable of darkness for it lives inside us all. It is those who chose to act upon it that are the real monsters.

Hayley shivered and wrapped her arms tightly around her middle as the still summer air turned chilly with a sudden gust of wind. In this morning's haste she had forgotten to bring a jacket, and her thin black cardigan was a measly barrier against the cool air. She looked to the sky to see the clouds above turn dark and threatening with rain.

Lingering outside Ravencroft was pointless.

Just as she was about to walk away, she caught sight of a familiar figure walking into the foyer and towards the front doors, towards her. Hayley smiled weakly as the automatic doors opened and allowed Colin to step outside before her.

" 'eared you got fired," Colin commented, stating the obvious.

"Yes. Well, it was about time I left. Especially after all…" she struggled to find the right words to explain it, "…all this."

Colin sniffed and folded his arms, "Guess ya gonna work for Osborn now. Papers say ya gonna be 'is outpatient physician or somethin'."

"That is what the court decided," Hayley said slowly, feeling like her actions were under scrutiny yet again.

"Yeah, you keep tellin' ya'self that. We both know the real story hun."

"I did _not_ sleep with him, Colin," Hayley said irritatedly through gritted teeth, "I know that everyone thinks that I did, but I didn't. And I do not appreciate _you_ questioning my morals like every goddamn person I've come across today!"

Colin was silent.

"This is not about me! This is about him. And whether he is well enough to be back in society! And he is! No one believed I could make him well, NO ONE! Not even you Colin. You were my only friend in this dump, and even you believe these horrid rumours about me! And you still believe them now don't you? DON'T YOU?" she asked wildly, her voice becoming hysterical now.

"Only believe what I know," Colin stated simply.

He knew what he'd seen one night; Hayley's flushed face, her lips reddened and swollen, hair a mess. Then he'd heard Harry whistling the Jeopardy tune, which the boy only did when he was mischievously happy – the prison guard could put two and two together, he wasn't stupid.

Hayley couldn't believe his attitude. "You know_ nothing_! You, out of everyone saw how he was with me, how calm I made him, how better behaved he was after our sessions. I cured him. ME! All of you doubted me; you all think I'm weak! But I'm not! I saved him when no one else would. The Goblin is gone, ok? He. Is. Gone!"

"I hope that's true hun, for ya sake I do," Colin spoke softly with sincerity and truthiness coating his every word.

She turned away from Colin, not wanting to look at his judgemental eyes anymore. Instead, Hayley thought about the stuff she'd left behind on her desk in her haste to leave; nothing came to mind. Her notebook with Harry's notes and case files was in her handbag like always. The only real possession left behind would be a second-hand tattered poetry book by Allen Ginsberg – luckily she had another copy at home. No, she had no ties to the institute now. Her only tie was now free – she could leave Ravencroft for good.

Nothing was holding her back.

"Goodbye Colin."

Hayley walked away, stronger than she'd ever felt in her life. But as soon as she exited Ravencroft's threshold and onto the sidewalk, doubt crept it's way into her mind.

The Goblin wasn't gone, and she knew that. It was silly to lie, however Hayley desperately wanted to believe it. Maybe with her continued help the green monster would never resurface. Maybe if she was strong enough she could eradicate Harry's dark side, his dominant and monstrous Id, before the world bore witness to the destruction his own weakness could inflict once more.

Or maybe she was just telling herself all this because there was a tiny part of her, a weak part of her, which thought that Harry could never be saved.

* * *

Harry sat in one of the many rooms in the Osborn Manor penthouse. He was on his favourite comfy grey sofa with his hands on his knees, holding a glass of scotch. He was fucking bored.

It had been a long and tedious morning; he'd had a 9am meeting with the OsCorp board and Manners. No one had objected to his reinstatement as CEO, though Donald Menken looked like he'd swallowed a lemon at the news – Manners must have paid him a lot to hold his tongue. They then discussed various topics like the reconstruction of the OsCorp power plant, as well as media control when his position as CEO was officially released to the press in the coming week.

Having to wear proper clothes again, after that horrendous orange jumpsuit, was glorious. Though, he had changed out of the suit he had donned for the morning meeting. Harry was now perfectly relaxed wearing a black V-neck jersey t-shirt and his dark wash denim skinny jeans that looked almost black - it was the same outfit he'd worn the day his life went to shit.

He stared at the blue cushioned chair where Spider-Man, no, _Peter_ had sat and denied him the blood sample, sentencing him to a slow death. Harry abruptly stood and kicked over the chair at the memory. He then flopped back onto his sofa, rubbing his exhausted face with the hand that wasn't clasping the Scotch glass. Opening tired eyes, Harry saw that his empty hand was shaking.

"Fucking illness," Harry said aloud before draining the remaining amber liquid from his glass.

Today, alcohol was his escape. He'd gone from one prison to another, except his childhood home was more stifling.

Nothing in this room was even his.

He didn't particularly like anything in the large room other than the numerous pieces of art that cluttered it. The animal skull with golden teeth was his favourite piece; he didn't know what animal it was but Harry didn't care too much. He only knew that it was expensive.

The open plan room had a floor of pure marble, with a long granite table in the middle, which was used for meetings with the OsCorp board now that he was under house arrest. Huge ceiling high windows that allowed him the best view of Manhattan encased the room. The inner walls were made of smooth mahogany making the room extremely decadent and expensive in a stately home kind of way.

Harry never did know why his father gave the upstairs penthouse to him – probably so that he was out of sight.

Sitting up to refill his glass, Harry glanced at the stack of various newspapers Felicia had brought him this morning. The Daily Bugle was on top with a full-page picture taken yesterday from outside the courthouse. He picked up the paper and left the filled glass on the table beside the remaining stack. Harry saw that the front-page image was of Hayley and himself.

Together.

He smiled. It was the first time he'd seen a picture of himself in a magazine that he hadn't felt disgusted by. All the times before, the snaps taken of him and models, that was all for show, part of the game. But this… Harry couldn't even begin to describe how this image made him feel.

Although Hayley looked stunned in the picture, her body was tilted towards his own whilst his arm protectively held her close. She was beautiful, the kind of awkward yet subtle beauty that could only be captured by accident on film. Her hair was blowing in the breeze, wispy copper tendrils clinging to his shoulder and neck due to their closeness. He remembered what her hair smelt like in the limo.

He remembered the first time he saw her, scared and alert with a syringe in her hand. She had touched him. Boldly touched his skin when no one else would. It had calmed him instantly, though he didn't know why. Her green eyes had entranced his own, because Harry saw a glimpse of something familiar. He'd seen himself reflected back.

Harry gazed back to The Daily Bugle in his hand, and could see that his own documented eyes were sparkling as he whispered in her ear, though he couldn't remember what he had said. They were twinkling with an emotion he didn't recognise, that he'd never seen in himself.

It reminded him of a framed picture he'd discovered the night before he left for boarding school. A young Harry was trying to find a photograph of his late mother to pack in his suitcase; there weren't many around the manor as his father kept them all in his bedroom. Norman Osborn was late coming home from work as usual, so Harry snuck into his room. That was when he discovered the picture.

His parents were standing together, his father's arm slung around his mother's slim waist. They were at some charity ball or benefit dinner because they were both in black tie dress. Norman was staring down lovingly at his sweetheart wife, Emily, who looked stunning in a draped neck onyx floor-length gown. She even wore an expensive Swarovski necklace with green glistening stones. They were the epitome of upper-class perfection.

What caught Harry's interest was not only how beautiful his mother had been, but also the emotion in his father's eyes – he had never seen that look before.

It was like looking at a stranger.

His father had caught him red-handed, throwing him out of his bedroom, a place he was not allowed to enter. Harry never saw the photograph again.

Harry shook his head to remove the painful memories, simultaneously flipping away the bangs that had covered his eyes again. Although the newspaper's image was no doubt suggestive to the public, to Harry they both looked effortless, almost calm among the chaos of the paparazzi. Perfect and uncomplicated.

And yet, they weren't anything _but _complicated.

In the five months of knowing her, he had broken Hayley's fingers, scared her, threatened her, manipulated her, put her job in jeopardy and her medical license under scrutiny, intimately touched her scars, and called her a monster. He had even killed a man for her. All because he found her hypnotically interesting for some unknown reason.

Why did she keep coming back?

Everyone had left him, but not Hayley. Was it because she was as flawed and as fucked up as he? But he had said to Peter that he didn't do "complicated".

Sure, there was Felicia, his stunning and uncomplicated assistant. There had been a spark once when they first met, he couldn't deny it. Felicia had help him when he became CEO, she had told him about Special Projects, and at times even seemed concerned about him– but it wasn't enough

There was something binding in having someone see you at your worst, at your weakest, and have them not run away. Peter had rejected him at his worst, rejected his weakness, because as Spider-Man, his old friend was genetically superior to he. Parker had strength above mankind and was selfish in betraying Harry when he had needed his friend.

Hayley had surpassed all his expectations of what a friend should be, could be. But what did that mean? Harry just couldn't understand, could not process it all in his alcohol-numbed mind.

Whatever spell she had cast on him, Harry still had the sense to know that being rat-assed drunk when Hayley arrived this afternoon was not a good idea. So he lay back on the sofa, newspaper still in his hand, and closed his eyes. He hoped that whatever his dreams might be, that she be in them.

* * *

**Thank you to everyone for all your love and support, it means the world to me. Also, thanks for the constructive criticism; I do really appreciate it and when I receive it, I try to take a step back from my writing, think, and work on what you've suggested or picked up on. So, I hope that shows. **

**To my lovely guest Ainsley, I hope this chap answers your question about Harry's feelings – he has them, it's just going to take a little while longer for our boy to realise it's not about control. **

**And also to one of my Guests, I agree that it is unprofessional to treat a patient you have a connection with, especially in the case of Erotic Transference, but sometimes you can't help who you fall for – I hope this chapter explains away the other concerns you had regarding her training and ability to treat Harry. And I apologise if Hayley is "on the gate way of mary sue land" – that thought terrifies me! I hope that's not the case! I try to make Hayley as real as possible, and that means she is flawed and a tad emotionally unstable – I write what I know. There is always a reason, even if it is not clear at the time, to how I write her – she needs to hit rock bottom before building herself up for character development.**

**If you've bought TASM2 dvd, have you guys watched the deleted scenes? The one called 'Peter visits Harry', I totally think they should have included this; it does wonders for Harry's character development with Peter! **

**Much Love XXX as always, reviews and constructive criticism are welcome – MORE HAYLEY AND HARRY TIME next chap! **


	19. Chapter 19

**I do not own Spider-Man, The Amazing Spider-Man movie, or anything associated with Marvel franchise…which sucks!**

* * *

"So, Doctor Baker – "

"Please, call me Emily."

"Emily," Manners said slowly, considering the woman before him, "I must say I was surprised that you wanted to meet today, and so early too."

To be honest, he was more than surprised.

The lawyer sat back in his leather chair, relaxing ever so slightly though his posture remained tense. Emily Baker was one of the three Clinical Psychiatrists he'd hired for the court case; all three had done their job to perfection. Manners had them sign a binding confidentiality contract upon court completion and he had paid them handsomely. That was it, case closed, goodbye.

So why had Emily demanded a meeting the day _after_ the trial concluded? It had bugged him ever since his secretary had informed him of the appointment upon his return from the Osborn Manor this morning. He hadn't even had time to question or postpone meeting the psychiatrist, for she was already sat in the waiting area of Manners &amp; Sons.

What was her game, her angle? It made Manners instantly suspicious. The psychiatrists were meant to disappear back to their own clinics, their usefulness over with. They were supposed to be expendable.

"I will be frank with you Mr Manners," Emily spoke coolly, cutting straight to the point. "I have worked in the medical profession for thirty years, and although I may have given one opinion in court, you know that opinion was falsified."

Manners gave curt nod in response.

"And although you were extremely swaying and compelling in court, I think we both know that in regards to Mr Osborn and Miss Carmichael, erotic transference is indeed real."

The lawyer glared at Emily, unable to pinpoint exactly where this conversation was headed. "Are you wanting to evoke the statement you gave in court?" Manners asked calculatedly, "Because I'm afraid the contract you signed does not allow such a thing."

"Oh no, I think you misunderstand Mr Manners," said Emily offhandedly, pushing her tortoise shell glasses up to the bridge of her nose. "I am very mindful of the various clauses in the contract. I just wanted you to be aware of the situation you now have on your hands."

Manners was really getting ticked off with this woman and her cryptic language. Bloody psychiatrists.

"And pray tell what exactly_ is_ this situation of which you speak," Manners scowled through slight gritted teeth. His hand tightened on his knee under the mahogany desk, the tension in his body only increasing.

Emily slowly leaned forward, raising an eyebrow in appraisal, "In my professional opinion, I think it is highly unwise for Miss Carmichael to continue acting as Mr Osborn's psychiatrist. It is highly unprofessional and unethical for a psychiatrist to treat a patient they have any personal connection with. And there is no doubt in my mind that their relationship is not strictly professional, let alone platonic."

The lawyer remained silent.

"During the trial, I had time to observe and speak with Miss Carmichael. She is a very bright young woman and has impressive training in our shared field. We spoke mostly about the case and Mr Osborn, as one professional to another, you understand. However I could tell instantly that any professionalism between the pair had already been compromised.

"Psychiatrists are trained in dealing with the subtle shift and psychodynamic issues that occur during a case of erotic transference. However, experiencing this dynamic in the field is rare and most professionals can become incompetent. Now, I am not questioning Miss Carmichael's ability as a psychiatrist. I am, however, concerned that since Mr Osborn has obvious feelings for her, that she may have lost control of the psychodynamic.

"I am sure you have read the reports and patient file Miss Carmichael prepared? In particular her observations of control and rejections issues? Well, erotic transference does not solely mean the development of "feelings". The "love" felt in these cases isn't necessarily real, but rather a projection of supressed childhood needs to be accepted and loved. The child part of a client wants to hoard this feeling, claim the object of this enthralling acceptance as his or her own personal possession.

"Now," Emily sighed heavily, finally getting to point, "The biggest problem we have, is that Miss Carmichael _also _has developed these feelings. She is very young, twenty-one I believe, and Mr Osborn is twenty years old. Two young people who are experiencing strange and irrational feelings for one another. Mr Osborn's feelings undoubtedly come from an unconscious need for control and acceptance. However, I fear that Miss Carmichael's feelings are completely genuine."

Both professionals sat in complete silence for a minute, the full weight of the situation coating the air with a thick, almost tangible tension.

"And what do you expect me to do about this?" Manners retorted.

"Nothing," Emily replied briskly, "There is nothing _you_ can do. I simply wanted to give you my true professional opinion, the one that I could not give in court."

Emily stood from her chair, ready to leave, her piece said.

The lawyer also stood, though he did not move from his position behind the desk. His anger and annoyance was evident in how his posture appeared to be too stiff and tight-lipped smile extremely forced.

"Oh yes, there is once more thing," Emily remembered, as she reached the door, "When you do encounter problems in regards to the love birds, which you will, you have my card." Her eyes looked pointedly to his neat desk where she had left three crisp white business cards. "I will be more than happy to treat Mr Osborn myself."

And with that, the confident psychiatrist Emily Baker opened the door, and left.

Manners glared at the closed door, thoroughly pissed off. What right did that woman have coming here to give her "professional opinion"? None! He did not pay for a real psychiatric evaluation of his client, no, Manners had paid for the psychiatrists to lie to ensure Harry's release. He had had enough of hearing about erotic transference and the psycho-mumbo jumbo; he was a lawyer for god's sake, not Harry's bloody keeper or guardian!

He sighed rubbing his chin thoughtfully. What was he going to do with those two crazy kids? Sure Emily had a point about the origin of Harry's feelings, but Manners knew the lad more than some bloody meddling psychiatrist. The boy had had a hard life and a pretty chaotic six months what with Norman Osborn's death and the subsequent events that followed.

Manners had never seen Harry look so happy in his entire life. And as long as he didn't hurt Miss Carmichael or jeopardise the outward appearance of their professional relationship, by pulling more media stunts like at the courthouse, then Manners was happy to indulge this little thing, whatever it was.

The lawyer sank heavily into his leather chair, taking a quick disgusted sip of his stone cold coffee. He was getting a migraine.

"BRRRRRING BRRRRING," screeched the ringing telephone on his desk.

Manners snatched up the phone before the third ring. "WHAT!?" he snapped angrily into the receiver.

The soft feminine voice of his personal secretary replied, "Oh, erm, I'm sorry Mr Manners, but there is someone here to see -"

"Well tell them to go away!"

"But - "

"Karen, listen to me very carefully. I do not have any other appointments scheduled for today. So whoever the fuck it is, tell them to piss off!"

"But sir," Karen persisted, "You said to let you know when Miss Carmichael arrived."

Looking down at his Rolex, Manners narrowed his eyes. It was only 12pm; Hayley finished work at 4pm today.

"Are you saying she's here?"

"Yes sir."

"Fine. Send her in," Manners barked. What was she doing here this early?

A faint tentative knock could be heard before the door to his office opened slightly. Hayley peeked her head round the door's edge, uncertain of whether her unscheduled early appearance had caused him stress. She'd never seen the lawyer this aggravated before, as he was usually so calm and poised, the very essence of composure. Though having just witnessed the secretary holding her office phone at arms length whilst Manners could be heard shouting through the receiver, Hayley realised that even the collected lawyer had his bad days.

"Do you have any aspirin?" Manners asked, keeping his voice quiet so as not to irritate his throbbing head.

Hayley walked towards him, sitting down in the chair opposite before opening her handbag. She shifted through her numerous belongings trying to find the correct strip of pills in her mini medication pouch.

"That's a lot of drugs Miss Carmichael," Manners commented, finally looking up from having his head in his hands. "Are all of those prescribed for you?"

"Here it is!" Hayley said loudly making Manners wince at the noise.

She held up the pills to check that the aspirin strip was the correct dosage before handing them to the lawyer. Luckily she had avoided the prying question.

Manners glanced around his desk, seeking out any form of liquid to swallow the pills with. He spied his cold cup of coffee and shuddered. Picking up the phone again, he waited impatiently for his secretary to answer.

"Karen? Send out the intern for two Starbucks filter coffees, grande, and - " Manners looked Hayley up and down, "- and two breakfast muffins. Stat!"

Hayley offered a warm smile in appreciation, though she refrained from expressing her dislike of Starbucks black coffee. Also, she found it annoying when people ordered food on her behalf. She wasn't hungry anyway.

"So," Manners spoke slowly, moving a single sheet of paper towards the redhead, "Would you care to read the contract while we wait for breakfast?"

She nodded in response. Hayley reached out to bring the document with her signature on it towards her so that she could read it.

"I took the liberty of highlighting the more important sentences and key words for you."

Hayley smiled appreciatively upon seeing pink highlighter pen decorating the paper; she wasn't stupid, but all the legal jargon was a pain to read through. She started to thoroughly read the document, taking particular notice to the words and sentences that Manners had highlighted for her;

"_Upon signing this document, the assigned outpatient physician is herby medically responsible for the patient, a Mr Harold Theopolis Osborn…_

… _full documentation will be undertaken daily by the assigned outpatient physician, to ensure that the health and safety of Mr Harold Theopolis Osborn is not compromised or altered further by the previous ingestion of the OsCorp venom formula… _

… _daily documentation will include the following tests; physical examination and treatment of the on-going exterior manifestation of Retroviral Hyperplasia genetic disease, along with a full health check involving general vitals inspection; resting pulse and heart rate, blood pressure, eye sight anomalies, mouth and dental abnormalities, finger and toenail inconsistencies… _

… _twice weekly counselling sessions, weekly weight and height measurements documented, monthly blood tests, monthly prescribed medication review… _

_Full cooperation from OsCorp Industries has been obtained, allowing the assigned outpatient physician unprecedented access to company research, laboratories, medical and scientific staff, to work towards a cure for Retroviral Hyperplasia…will also be part of a geneticist research team… Assigned outpatient physician will be provided with additional training and qualifications to aid in the care for Mr Harold Theopolis Osborn…_

_The assigned outpatient physician is under the employment of OsCorp Industries and shall only be released from this contract when the honourable Judge Morris and OsCorp Industries are ensured a one, Mr Harold Theopolis Osborn, has been cured and no longer poses a threat to society, Manhattan and the state of New York. _

_I, Miss Hayley Marie Carmichael, hereby agree to the terms and conditions of this contract …"_

And along the dotted line, as clear as day, was the pen scrawl that Hayley recognised as her signature.

Fuck.

She sat back in her chair defeatedly. Closing her eyes for a second longer than a usual blink, she hoped that when they opened that this would all be just a dream.

Opposite her, Manners watched her carefully, gauging a reaction. He could tell that the full impact of the contract had hit her by the hazy look in her now open eyes. Those green orbs were wide like a deer in headlights but glazed over with extreme tiredness that only come from the exhaustion of realising ones fate. The contract was binding, there were no loopholes and no alterations could be made; she was bound to OsCorp industries… and Harry Osborn.

Manners was about speak but was rudely interrupted by the door of his office banging open. His eyebrow twitched in annoyance and Hayley jumped at the intrusion, as a young intern hurried forward with the long awaited Starbucks. The intern placed the takeaway coffee cups on the wooden desk along with a brown paper bag containing the breakfast muffins. Manners glared daggers at the nervous male intern, who fled without saying a word, smashing the door closed behind him.

"Bloody interns," Manners muttered before sipping his warm coffee, swallowing two little aspirin pills. He pushed the other cup towards Hayley and motioned to the muffins before taking out his own, "So, now that you've actually read the contract, do you have any questions?"

Hayley stared at her muffin intently, picking off the pumpkin seeds. "Not really. It pretty much explains everything," she mumbled reluctantly, "Though, finding a cure? How do you expect me to cure him? And of what - Retroviral Hyperplasia or his Goblin psychosis? I'm just a psychiatrist! A nurse! I'm not fit to be an outpatient physician!"

"That's why you will receive additional training in the areas you are unfamiliar with," the lawyer reassured gently, trying to skate over her last question, "You can do this Hayley."

"Can I?" Hayley responded despairingly, continuing to pick at the Starbucks muffin aggressively. "Sure OsCorp will help me with the science side, but what about his psychological side? I only managed to barely scratch the surface in Ravencroft, and it could take a long time for him to work through those issues, like years, I don't know, he may not be willing to ever discuss certain issues, he's just so secretive…" she rambled, unable to keep her self-doubt from entering her voice.

Taking a bite from his breakfast muffin, Manners could see the pressure and realisation of what her new job entailed, starting to eat away at the redhead's confidence. Maybe her feelings towards Harry _were_ getting in the way…

"We could bring in another psychiatrist to help you."

"Why would you say that?" Hayley questioned instantly, snapping out of her doubt-filled mind.

"I only meant," Manners started gently, "That even though I managed to persuade the court that erotic transference is mumbo jumbo, I think we both know that this is not true, is it? I wouldn't want any personal feelings between the two of you to affect your work as Mr Osborn's physician. Ultimately, his recovery is paramount – it is what you and I have been working towards for these past six months, is it not?"

Hayley stayed quiet, squishing muffin dough and cranberries between her fingers agitatedly.

"At least think about it," he said sliding Emily Baker's crisp white business card across the desk. "Anyway, why are you here this early? I didn't expect you 'til at least five."

"Mmmm? Oh, I quit Ravencroft," Hayley stated simply, finally popping a piece of dead muffin into her mouth.

The lawyer smiled ecstatically, "Good. I was going to recommend you do so, that place is toxic. Besides, your work as an outpatient physician will be a full time job."

_What?_ Hayley thought. _How could monitoring Harry's daily health be a full time job? Surely I would just check him over once, document it, and then go home? Maybe some days would be longer with the OsCorp science stuff and counselling sessions, but full time every day? I highly doubt it._

Hayley nodded, keeping her thoughts to herself.

"I'll call for the Sedan to pick you up," declared Manners, taking out his personal cell phone and pressing the speed dial button. When Hayley gave him a questioning look, he responded, "You might as well see him now, there's no point waiting until six, is there? Sit in the waiting area and Karen will tell you when the car arrives."

Waving a silent goodbye to the lawyer, Hayley went and sat out in the waiting room, leaving her cold untouched coffee and destroyed muffin on Manners' desk – she_ really_ hated people ordering for her.

* * *

He hadn't moved much since deciding to stop consuming the amber liquid.

Harry had slept relatively soundly. For some unknown reason, he had dreamt of his parents. Well, his photo frame picture perfect parents that time forgot.

Both were dancing the waltz in an empty ballroom as he hid in the shadows behind a stone pillar, watching intently. His parents were magical, enchanting even, keeping in time to a silent tune. They twisted and turned this way and that, completing the dance, before slowing down until they almost stood still.

Still hidden behind a pillar, Harry stepped out of the darkness, trying to catch a glimpse his parent's faces. He wanted to see that look, see his father's emotive eyes and his mother's beaming love filled smile. But their faces were blank. No, they had no face. These people weren't his parents!

Harry edged nearer to the faceless couple, quickly becoming distressed at the strangers who still wore his parent's clothes... The pair suddenly performed a flurried spin, allowing Harry to be faced with the back of the man, but able to easily see the face of the young woman.

His eyes widened as he recognised the soft auburn locks and porcelain skin of Hayley, whose hands were held by the strange man. Her green eyes held the same sentiment as his father's had, an emotion that Harry simply did not understand. Whatever emotion it was, he did not like that it was directed at someone other than him.

Racing forward, Harry could feel his blood boiling with the need to know whom this bastard was who was holding _his _Hayley. He had almost reached the pair, his hand held out ready to grab the man's shoulder, when… the lights went out.

Harry stood in darkness, momentarily frozen. Then an abrupt spotlight illuminated himself, Hayley and the faceless man. Except, he wasn't faceless anymore. In the darkness, the pair must have done another spin, because Hayley now faced away from Harry, her arms draped around the man's neck. A neck that was covered with ugly lesions and dark green veins.

The Goblin looked away from Hayley, locking eyes with Harry, grinning wickedly through razor sharp cracked teeth. Harry stared back at his alter ego, glaring in anger at the way the monster's hands clung to the redhead's fragile body. He was still frozen from earlier and Harry helplessly watched as Hayley reached up, planting a kiss on those smirking demon lips. The Goblin never strayed his eyes from Harry's blue ones, as he returned the kiss.

Knowing that Harry was still watching, the Goblin glanced down at Hayley and mouthed a single word.

"_Mine_."

BANG!

Waking with a start, Harry fell off the grey sofa, landing hard on the marble floor. He quickly scanned the room from his low position, trying to find the source of the noise. It almost sounded like a gunshot.

"_Gunshot? Please, who would want to kill you?"_

Harry rolled his eyes and sighed in annoyance before standing up, "I am fairly certain there's one person who wants me dead. Though, Spider-Man doesn't kill people."

"_Reckon he'll make an exception for you, hmmm?" _the Goblin asked.

Spotting the source of the noise, Harry walked towards one of the tall windows; ironically the one Spider-Man had fled through all those months ago.

"Spider-Man? No. But Peter, he just might," he replied, touching the glass where a faint smudgy outline of a bird could be seen.

He'd forgotten how often birds flew into the crystal clear glass – another reason why his father gave the upstairs penthouse to him no doubt.

"_So, dream of anything interesting?" _goaded the Goblin mockingly.

Harry's eyes flashed darkly in his glass reflection.

"Nightmares as usual," he responded calmly, before suddenly wincing as the Goblin's manic laughter echoed inside his skull.

There was no way that he would ever admit his dream to the Goblin, even though Harry was more than certain that his Id also shared his nightly visions.

The Goblin smiled to himself, "_Of course._"

Returning to his favourite sofa, Harry sat down heavily and checked his Rolex; 2pm. Now that he was sober and no longer sleepy, what was he going to do until Hayley arrived? She finished work at four, and after her meeting with Manners, she probably wouldn't get here until six. How was he going to kill four hours?

Harry was bored.

Again.

Fuck sake.

Seeing no choice other than to consume more alcohol to pass the time, Harry reached towards the half empty Scotch bottle. He began to pour the tawny liquid into a crystal glass, when a sharp knock sounded to his far right.

The only door leading to the outer corridors, opened.

One of the Osborn Manor butlers, Greg Connolly, swept into the room, his back poker straight and his brown hair neatly combed. Connolly had worked for the Osborn's as long as Harry had been alive, and had been promoted to Master Butler the week before he'd left for boarding school. The butler was now in his fifties, yet still remained as polished and loyal as ever.

"There is a Hayley Carmichael here to see you sir," Connolly called out across the open plan room.

"Bring her up," Harry instructed calmly, though his insides were buzzing with anticipation and surprise.

A few minutes later, Connolly, who had left to retrieve Hayley, returned.

Deciding to get off his ass, Harry stood quickly and walked over to the door to greet his ginger doll.

"You're a bit early," he grinned welcomingly.

"Look at this place!" the redhead exclaimed breathlessly, momentarily distracted by the art-adorned room as she entered.

His grin only widen at Hayley as she gasped in awe. Pure joy seemed to radiate from her, her beauty surpassing the numerous pieces of his expensive art collection. She seemed to just fit. The room didn't swallow or cage her like it did Harry. No, to him, Hayley appeared right at home, as if she'd lived here her whole life.

But when Hayley did a little spin, trying to take it all in, it spoiled everything.

Harry's mood soured instantly and his grin waned – her innocent action immediately reminding him of his dark and haunting dream.

"_Looks stunning, doesn't she?"_ the Goblin purred in his ear.

Taking her hand in his, Harry quickly stopped Hayley mid twirl.

"I take it you like it?" he asked, suddenly feeling nervous, like her opinion meant everything.

He rarely brought girls back up to his penthouse, preferring a night of fun in hotel rooms. Osborn Manor was begrudgingly his home and it was private; Hayley would be the first woman that mattered, other than Felicia, to have been up to his suite.

"Are you kidding? It's beautiful!" Hayley replied excitedly, not noticing that Harry was slightly stroking her hand that he still held. "I've never seen anything like this! You could fit about three of my apartments in here. It's blinking huge!"

"So, why are you here this early? Not that I can complain, I was getting rather bored by myself."

"You were?" Hayley asked, concern filling her voice, all previous excitement vanished.

_He probably feels just as alone as he did the institute_, she thought.

"I'm early because I've left Ravencroft."

Harry nodded agreeing with the decision completely, "Good. It wasn't safe for you there."

Hayley nodded, knowing that he was referring to Kinsey. She still couldn't sleep because of the recurring nightmares, and it had been almost a month since the attack. Closing her eyes at the horrible memory, Hayley saw flashes of that night, of the man that nearly took are innocence. Even the memory of it caused her to start trembling.

"I never did thank you for…for before," she said in a quiet voice.

Upon feeling a strong hand holding her cheek, Hayley reopened her eyes, unable to stop from gazing into Harry's eyes to centre herself.

Those eyes, those sparkling emotive blue eyes, were beginning to draw her in. Hayley could feel herself getting lost in them, her mind and senses drowning in their vastness, in how they bore into her very soul. It was amazing to feel this connection again, just like the secret moments they had in Ravencroft…

She wanted kiss him. Hayley knew it was coming, she could see him staring down at her lips, could feel how close his body had suddenly got to hers. However, in her mind she heard Manners' voice from this morning. She couldn't kiss him; it would destroy the already fragile physician/patient boundaries. In her heart, Hayley wanted this, craved this feeling of being wanted, but she knew it had to stop.

It had to end now.

Stroking her cheek softly, Harry squeezed her hand reassuringly. "You never need to thank me," he murmured, his lips only millimetres from hers.

Maybe just a peck, Hayley tried to reason with herself.

_I can't kiss him, but if I completely reject him then I could loose his trust completely, _she reasoned_. Yes, a peck. A peck will help him understand that I have to stay professional…a goodbye peck._

"Yes I do," Hayley whispered before turning her head away from his, placing a small quick touch of her lips onto his cheek. Then she let go of his hand and stepped back, putting much needed distance between them, before finally saying, "Thank you, Harry.

The both stood in silence for a long minute and Hayley already detected traces of rejection in his eyes, the hurt written all over his face.

Harry's jaw became ridged as he ground his teeth in annoyance. But he knew that he had to stay calm, keep control of the situation. No doubt Manners had said something or she had become spooked by today's newspaper articles and photographs.

"_She will come to us, Harry. I can see the want in her eyes…she's nearly ours."_

"I assume you spoke with Manners," Harry stated cheerfully, though his tone was forced.

He walked away from the redhead and the doorway to sit back on his grey sofa. Hayley followed, running her hand over the smooth granite table where Harry's meeting had taken place earlier that day. She quickly surveyed the seating layout, noting that even though Harry was sitting comfortably, both arms draped over the sofa top, he had left an obvious space beside him for her. Maintaining her distance going to be testing it seemed.

A navy cushioned chair that was lying upside down on the ground allowed Hayley time to think whilst she righted it. She almost thought about sitting on it but realised she would then be too far away from Harry. Instead she finally sat down on the other navy chair, the one closest to him and his grey sofa.

Harry's eyes narrowed slightly. "Did you read the contract?"

"Yes I did," she answered, smoothing out the creases in her suit trousers anxiously as she suddenly spied the stack of newspapers on the coffee table. "You've seen the papers then?"

"I have indeed."

_Great,_ Hayley thought_, now he's completely closed himself up._

"What did you make of it?" she tried again. Was he as freaked out as she by what the reporters were saying?

"It's a good photo," he grinned cheekily, flicking his bangs out of his face.

Hayley sighed and relaxed in chair, thankful he didn't appear to have entirely shut himself off from her.

"You hungry?' Harry questioned suddenly, "I could get Connolly to bring us some food?"

"Why is everyone trying to feed me today!" she half laughed incredulously, "First Manners with his breakfast muffins, and now you." Hayley smiled warmly to show that she was gently joking with him.

Still smiling, Harry replied with a pout, "Well, I haven't eaten."

"I can see that - drinking much? When I start you off on medication again then you'll have to go easy on the Scotch, Harry."

"Did Manners not say?" Harry said, leaning forward to rest his hands on his knees, "After you were suspended because of the chair-throwing incident, he continued bringing me my daily medication that you usually brought. I haven't stopped taking my pills."

Hayley's brows furrowed in suspicion, but did not let the concern taint her voice, "Oh. I'll still need to monitor your alcohol intake anyway."

How did Manners know about the secret drugs she gave Harry?

"You have to come daily to do your medical examination and tests, correct?"

"Yes. Anytime before lunch would be best I think. Morning maybe? So that I can gather you're resting heartbeat and blood pressure."

Harry learned further forward where he sat, resting his chin on his hands in thought. "Most days this week my meetings start at 9-9:30am, and I'm pretty much booked up until late afternoon… so before nine?"

"Erm, yes, yes," Hayley replied feeling rather flustered. Before nine in the morning? "I would say that the check over would take no more than thirty minutes. Maybe if I come here for 8:15?"

"Ok. I should hopefully be awake."

"Don't expect me to drag you out of bed, I have a job to do," she teased tenderly. "How are you feeling anyway? About being under house arrest, I mean?"

"From one prison to another, though at least I get to move around feely," Harry sighed, putting his head in his hands, unable to hide the stress for a second. "This place is just as oppressive," he said bitterly.

"Harry, before I begin being your outpatient physician tomorrow… I…I have a question to ask," Hayley started nervously, her voice starting to shake. "I never asked you before because…I have to ask you Harry, about what you said in court, about Gwen. Did…did Spider-Man really kill her?"

"Yes."

Shifting in her chair, Hayley continued, "I only ask because we never discussed the clock tower in our sessions together. I've found it hard sometimes treating you because - "

_Because I care for you, _she thought.

" - because a small part of me blamed you for her death. But I know now that it was Spider-Man. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry I ever doubted you, it's just Gwen was my only friend and… I'm sorry if my personal feelings ever got in the way of your treatment."

"It's ok," came Harry's voice, suddenly sounding extremely close to her.

Hayley looked up to seem him standing beside her chair, his right hand holding its cushioned back. When did he leave the sofa? Maybe be when she was staring into her lap during her mini confession.

"You look tired Hayley, would you like me to drive you back?"

She nodded, the exhaustion of today hitting her in waves. But then a thought crossed her mind.

"Hang on, you can't leave!"

Harry chuckled, like a naughty child caught in a mischievous act, "I could break the rules." Then he lowered his voice and looked down at her from beneath his bangs, "For you."

With his left hand, Harry brushed his knuckles softly across her pale cheek before, twizzling a strand of her copper hair around his pointer finger.

Hayley froze in her seat, mesmerised by those sparkling blue eyes again…

She stood quickly, disrupting their intimate moment. This had to stop!

"It's ok, I'm not worth being thrown back in Ravencroft for breaking your court order, am I?" she smiled gently, slowly inching around the blue chair, her hair falling from his fingers. When her legs hit the granite table from behind, she was able to speak again from a safe distance, "I can make my own way home."

"_Oh Ginge, you are always worth breaking the rules for,"_ whispered the Goblin out loud for only himself and Harry to hear.

Hayley walked around the large table and quickened her pace towards the exit door.

"The Sedan will take you," Harry said simply, undertones of an order lacing his statement.

"Thanks but I'll be ok. I like taking the subway. See you at 8:15," Hayley called after her, practically flying out the door.

Walking down the endless corridors, Hayley finally found Connolly who led her to the exit. All the while she was thinking; what was it that rich people didn't understand about flashing their cash in Lower Manhattan? Sure if she lived near the Financial District, then it would be fine, but around the Lower East Side? No. Taking the Sedan or Limo near her apartment area was _not _a good idea.

* * *

It was about three in the morning and Hayley had fallen asleep listening to the news anchor reporting on the Rhino's latest movements. He hadn't been seen since his battle with Spider-Man. How you could loose a huge metal Rhino in New York was the million-dollar question that nobody could answer. There were rumours that another Russian, a hunter with a machine like crossbow, had aided Aleksei Sytsevich's escape. Either way, the droning voices and low buzz of the television had caused her to drift into a deep dreamless sleep.

Her apartment was completely quiet other than the television bustling angrily and the numerous echoing sirens of cop cars – Hayley could sleep through anything.

Then, there was an explosion.

A monstrous rumble tore through the apartment building, rocking Hayley onto her carpeted floor with its ferocity. She stayed low and glanced around quickly, certain that her building was under attack.

Another detonation, which sounded further away from the apartment than the first, allowed Hayley to cautiously and shakily get to her knees. Her cold fallen Pot Noodle soaked her jeans in minutes but she didn't care. She was too focused on the horrifying scenes displayed on her television.

The Rhino had reappeared along with the crossbow armed stranger. Both were fighting Spider-Man, and all three were causing destruction left, right and centre. The news cameras couldn't keep up with the fight, images flickering as the station switched from camera to camera, trying to get a decent picture. Hayley couldn't even identify how close the devastation was - all that the news would say was that it was in Lower Manhattan.

But it sounded so close.

More blasts could be heard in the distance and Hayley shuffled along the floor to her window, ignoring the wet squelches made by her noodle water wet knees.

_How close were they?_

Plumes of fire and grey smoke tainted the navy night sky. The skyline was jagged, some how different, like a few obvious buildings were missing…

"Oh my god," Hayley whispered in shock, her trembling hand going to her mouth, "They're in Alphabet City… What if they come to the Bowery? What do I do?"

She was beginning to panic. Her breathing became short and sharp like a panic attack was imminent. Her reflection in the window was terrifying; she looked like a pale quivering ghost with a backdrop of smoky darkness and radiant flames. The ghostly twin enchanted her so; it almost appeared more terrible than the fallen buildings, the sky in pieces. Who was this frightened and haunted girl? Hayley barely recognised herself anymore.

Her world was falling apart…

The sharp trill of her cell phone disturbed her trance, and Hayley practically leapt across her small apartment to answer it. Gripping the phone in her hands, she didn't even care that the number wasn't one she knew; she needed for someone to know she was alive.

"Hello?" Hayley shrieked desperately.

"Hayley? Is that you? Are you alright? Are you hurt?" came a low but urgent voice down the receiver.

"Harry!" she cried, tears tumbling down her cheeks, "Harry, I'm so scared. What do I do? There's fire and smoke and sirens…and…and then the apartment shook – "

"Calm down, I'll come get you – "

"NO!" she screeched down the phone, "You can't! I won't have you breaking the rules for me Harry, I won't!"

"Then what can I do? If I can't come get you, then what can I do?" Harry asked, his voice full of concern.

"I don't know," Hayley answered, calming down now that the explosions had stopped and she had something to focus on.

"For gods sake Hayley, I have all this money, I'm Harry freaking Osborn, and you're telling me that there is nothing I can do?" came Harry's voice, filling her ears with very passionate alarm. "I don't like feeling like this, like I can't do anything, like I'm…"

Powerless.

Weak.

"Please," Hayley pleaded, clutching her cell tighter, "Don't stop talking. I just, I need to hear your voice… I don't want to be alone."

Harry spoke to her all night until around five in the morning, when they both fell asleep, linked by their still connected cell phones.

* * *

Harry was already awake and dressed, sitting on his sofa, waiting.

"You're late."

"Yeah, no shit Sherlock!" Hayley retorted irritably walking into the penthouse. "Have you seen the news this morning? It's been chaos getting there! I left at like seven. And I had to take three subway connections because of all the damage."

She didn't mean to be rude but seriously what did he expect? Alphabet City was like a mini war zone with so many streets cordoned off, which only made the subway trains more busy than usual. It was like a mosh pit down there, no one could move.

Hayley collapsed into her blue cushioned chair, exhausted from her travels and lack of sleep. To her left, Harry looked calm and lively in comparison. The only sign of his weariness were the dark bags under his icy blue eyes.

He glanced down at his expensive Rolex; it was nearly nine.

"Well I've managed to push back my 9 o'clock meeting by thirty minutes so you'll have to make this quick," Harry said curtly, reclining lazily on the sofa whilst examining his nails nonchalantly. He didn't particularly care about the meeting, but he did care that his time with Hayley would be cut short.

Rolling her eyes, Hayley sat forward and rummaged in her large tote bag for all her medical materials. She really did not have time for his sass this morning. He was probably in a mood because by phoning her, it proved that he cared about something other than himself. Knowing Harry like she did, Hayley was fairly certain that their two-hour conversation had been the longest he'd ever spoken to a person in one hit. Well, in an intimate manner anyway.

He'd spoken about his time at boarding school and the numerous countries he'd visited – nothing too revealing. But Hayley had loved every minute of it. His soothing low voice caressing her ear as she tried to ignore the wailing cop sirens outside. Luckily Spider-Man had contained the destruction to Alphabet City, so the news anchor had said. Hayley had calmed slightly knowing that her building wasn't going to suddenly collapse. Though, when she did finally sleep, all the people who could be injured or trapped under the rubble troubled her thoughts. Her dreams were of smoke and flames engulfing the entire Lower Manhattan area.

"Tick tock. Anytime like the present doll," Harry said, grinning when she jumped out of her thoughts.

"Wow, Harry, I didn't know you could be so demanding," she teased with smile.

"There is a difference in being demanding and know what you want," he replied knowingly, his voice getting very low all of a sudden. "And I know what I want."

"You… you do?"

"Yeah…I want you to get your nurse mode on do your little check up," Harry chuckled, enjoying they way the redhead easily fell into his traps. "I am a busy man after all."

Getting back to business, Hayley methodically laid out a note pad and pen, a medical torch pen, a stethoscope, sphygmomanometer, and some alcohol hand rub.

First she picked up the torch pen and flicked it on, walking to stand directly in front of Harry who remained on the grey sofa.

"Ok, I want you to sit up straight and look from left to right when I tell you to," she instructed, bending down on her knees to be at his eye level.

Harry tried to contain a toothy smirk like he was about to say something naughty.

"Look left. Now right. Up. Down," Hayley ordered, flicking her torch into each of his eyes, looking for any imperfections.

She knew that this part of his daily check up was to document the changes that occurred to his iris colour when he slipped in and out of his Goblin psychosis. Today she found no traces, just his usual sapphire orbs twinkling mischievously at her.

"Brilliant. Now open your mouth."

Giving her a confused eyebrow raise, Harry complied and opened his mouth, but was unable to contain a small chuckle at the ridiculousness of it all.

Hayley flashed the light, inspecting his teeth for any lasting damage caused by the venom and initial Goblin transformation. His front teeth were pearly white, utter perfection, but the back molars had a khaki tint. They also appeared to be more worn down than usual. However, Hayley was no dentist, so she turned of the penlight and noted down her findings so far.

Unconsciously, Harry flicked his tongue over his front teeth. Her little mouth check reminded him of when he bit and licked her fingers in his cell… now that was a fun memory from Ravencroft. He watched her kneel on the hard marble floor, scribbling away her findings. It gave him the perfect view her bum. It was almost too much that she had decided to wear that tight black skirt today. All Harry wanted to do was reach out and pull her to him, caress those hips, feel her body…

He started biting his fingernails to stop himself from over stepping the line.

"Hey! I need to look at those, stop biting them!" Hayley ordered kindly, holding Harry's wrist and gently releasing his trapped nails. "Did anyone tell you that biting your nails is a bad habit?"

He smiled as he felt Hayley's fingers softly ghost over his hand, as she examined the tattered nails.

"Think I need a manicure?" Harry asked jokingly, allowing her to inspect his other hand.

"Maybe. But not until I take some nail clippings tomorrow."

"Are you being serious?"

"Dead serious. And I'll have a look at your toenails tomorrow too."

Harry sat back after she released his hand and sighed, "Really? And you have to do this _every _day?"

"Bingo," Hayley replied, turning away and writing more recordings in her notepad that was resting on the small coffee table. "I'm afraid you're stuck with me, Mr Osborn."

"_Like that would be a bad thing,"_ the Goblin murmured aloud, though the redhead didn't seem to notice.

"How are you sleeping by the way?"

Thinking the examination was over, Harry swung his legs onto the sofa and sprawled out along the length of it. "Better now that I have this sofa and a comfy bed. Though I didn't sleep much last night."

"Hmm," Hayley mumbled, so immersed in her documentation that she failed to remember what happened last night.

"Yeah, I'm loosing sleep over this girl, a redhead…" Harry said playfully, smirking when her head popped up like a meerkat, suddenly hearing his words.

She spun round on her knees, "Me?"

"Well duh, Hayley," he laughed rolling his eyes at her from where he lay, "I was on the phone to you until five this morning, so yeah, I didn't sleep much."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be a bother…"

Harry sat up quickly and put his finger over Hayley's lips, stopping her from talking.

"_I_ phoned you remember. You have nothing to apologise for," he murmured quietly, captured her green orbs with his blues ones. "Even if last night didn't happen, I'd still loose sleep over you. Ever since we met, I wake up needing to know you're safe. Where you live is dangerous, as last night clearly shows. What if the Rhino comes back and smashes your building, or someone like Kinsey attacked you again? I can't protect you now you are so far away from me."

Hayley had no idea how to respond; time to keep it professional.

"Right, take you shirt off."

"What?' Harry spluttered, unable to keep the shock from his face.

"Quickly! I only have fifteen minutes left and I have three more tests to do!"

He tutted, mentally berating himself for even considering she meant anything other than business. Though his heart continued to beat wildly as Hayley loosened his tie – why did she look so sexy doing the most ordinary things?

"Do you know how long it takes me to get that tie perfect?" he muttered, undoing the buttons of his shirt.

"That's fine, you can keep the shirt on, I just need to check your heart," Hayley babbled, blushing at seeing his bare torso again.

She grabbed her stethoscope and quickly listened to his heart, recording it as slightly elevated. Next she deftly checked his chest, stomach and neck for any old or fresh lesions. The only one she could find was the stubborn one on his neck that, thankfully, his shirt collar covered. Even though the room wasn't cold, Hayley noticed that her fingers left goose bumps on his skin.

"All done," Hayley smiled brightly, thankful yet reluctant for the examination to be over – she really did like touching his body even though she shouldn't. "I'll check your back and use the sphygmomanometer to take your blood pressure tomorrow, since we've run out of time."

Harry remained silent as he watched Hayley pack up her equipment, admiring the way her body swished around the coffee table and sofas. He kept his eyes fixed on her as he redid the buttons on his shirt and fixed his slim black tie.

_It's never as much fun putting on clothes than it is to take them off,_ he thought.

"You know," Harry spoke slowly, standing up and cracking his back, "It would be easier to get here on time if you lived closer."

"Yeah, obviously," she said dismissively, placing her heavy tote bag on her slender shoulders.

"You could stay in one of the spare rooms while Alphabet City gets sorted. Otherwise you'll be late every day this week," Harry replied nonchalantly.

Hayley turned and raised an eyebrow but kept her voice gentle, "I'll be fine Harry. It's nice that you worry for me, but I promise I won't be late again."

There was a firm knock at the door.

"That's my cue. Enjoy your meeting Harry," Hayley said cheerfully and skipped away and out of the room before Harry could even respond.

* * *

It had been two weeks since Hayley's first day as Harry's outpatient physician and she was very pleased that she hadn't been late once. Though she was beginning to understand what Manners meant about her daily examination's being a full time job.

Donald Menken was looking for any excuse to slander Harry's name now that news had broke about him reclaiming control over OsCorp as CEO. There was an ever-constant sea of reporters outside OsCorp Tower and the Osborn Manor, which wasn't helping the situation. Hayley's face kept appearing in the newspapers, much to her dislike. Every morning she had to bat away the cameras and be constantly vigilant in case nosey reporters followed her.

And although she hadn't yet been late, Harry was not always awake when she arrived. Waiting for that man to get washed and dressed was like watching a chess match. It took him forever to walk out of his room dressed as Harry Osborn, CEO of OsCorp. It's not like she hadn't seen him at his worst!

Either way, Harry's morning routine ate away into her examination time, which usually meant that Hayley had to wait until _after_ his morning meetings to do her work. This meant that the data she was collecting for the geneticist team at OsCorp was inconsistent and incomplete. Once it had almost been 2pm before Hayley even had a chance to do her daily check up.

Her work involved a lot of waiting around and travelling backwards and forwards between her home, the Osborn Manor and OsCorp tower. Quite frankly it was exhausting.

And as much as she enjoyed her work and learning about Retroviral Hyperplasia, even the geneticist team at OsCorp were beginning to voice their opinions.

Their biggest annoyance was her data not being consistent, especially with the time of collection varying each day. This led to the usual argument about Hayley's time keeping abilities. One scientist pointed out that Norman Osborn's physicians lived with him to ensure data regulation accuracy and constant care. The team were also eager for Hayley to up her examinations to three times a day as it would allow more research into how the disease affected its host in relation to daily living and stresses. Also, they reasoned, how would she ever be able to see if the Goblin psychosis returned if she wasn't with Harry Osborn all day, every day?

Begrudgingly, Hayley was beginning to see the team's point. Maybe if she lived closer, or, hell, lived _with _Harry, then the work she was doing at the OsCorp labs could really improve.

Wait, was she really considering _living_ with him?

That's all Hayley could think about as Harry gave her another lecture about her Pot Noodle addiction.

She'd just sat around for three hours waiting for another important meeting to finish, and they were having lunch together on the big granite table in the living area now that her examination was over.

"You keep asking me for Pot Noodles," Harry said through a mouthful of salad, "But Connolly refuses to buy them. And you really shouldn't be eating them doll, they are full of crap!"

"Yeah I know," she replied, distractedly moving a baby tomato around her plate with the most polished and expensive silver fork she'd ever seen.

Harry looked at her hunched over her food and could tell instantly that something was wrong.

He'd watched her closely these past weeks and had started to pick up on different visual cues. When she was nervous, she licked her lips. If he complimented her, then she would frown in embarrassment, but her eyes would sparkle with pure joy. And whenever she was uncomfortable or caught up in her mind, she would refuse to look anywhere but her lap. Like now for instance.

"Something on your mind," he asked casually. It usually didn't take much coaxing to get her to spill.

"Well, I got this letter…"

Bingo.

"…more of an invitation really. From OsCorp," she spoke quietly, flicking her wide green eyes up to look into his own, hoping that he would help her out.

There was going to be no chance of that – Harry wanted her to say it.

"Apparently there's this charity ball, to do with the foundation you've set up, the one part of your community service," Hayley continued, "And I've been invited… Except it's a black-tie event…and it says all women should be accompanied…and I have no one to go with…"

Harry smirked.

"Well doll, I also have no one to take. So, I'm afraid you're stuck with me, Miss Carmichael."

* * *

**So, the next update will be Chapter20! How have we got this far? I've got the whole chapter planned out and I'm expecting it to be looooong – I better start writing it! It's going to be a very special chap with scenes that I know you have all been waiting for and will love *****wink wink***** – trust me, I've been dying to write this stuff! **

**Btw, I apologise if my knowledge of New York and Manhattan is a bit er inaccurate – I do my research and I've got a map of Manhattan but everything is so different compared to where I live in the UK!**

**Also, I watched Dane's new film Life After Beth in the cinema…OMG! Bloody love that man YUM! Highly recommend it!**

**Thank you for everything guys. I love all you favouriters, followers, reviewers, guestslings, reading in the shadow lurkers – you make this writing experience AMAZING for me XXX Much love **

**P.S. Sorry if my chapters are taking longer to update that usual – I aim to do two chaps a month or one every two weeks, but sometimes life gets in the way :'(**


	20. Chapter 20

**I do not own Spider-Man, The Amazing Spider-Man movie, or anything related to the Marvel franchise. **

**However I have also taken inspiration from TASM2 video game, incorporating characters and quotes to further enhance this story – no profit is made, I take no credit, and I don't own anything, sadly. **

* * *

Nothing pleased Harry more, than to know he was taking Hayley to the charity gala.

Sure, she hadn't said yes straight away, citing whether it would be morally ethical to accompany a patient to such a public event and all that political crap. But he didn't have to do much to get her to see things his way.

With a bit of charm and his standard pout, Hayley had agreed to attend the gala as his date. He even told her that being in large crowds scared him, especially when he was expected to give a speech. Of course she had melted at such an intimate confession. Then Hayley proceeded to give her own passionate declaration that it was actually in his best interest to have her with him. She would be able to monitor his state of mind as a test run for when he was released from the house arrest sentence. It sounded like a lot of bull to him, but if that was how she reasoned it in her mind, then who was he to say otherwise.

It was sad really, how easily she had fallen into his trap, Harry mused. It was almost like she had intended for this outcome by bringing up the subject to begin with. He wouldn't put it past her since she was a psychiatrist, using her powers of subliminal messages and reverse psychology. Although he'd prefer to think he held the power and upper hand in their relationship, though he wasn't always sure when it came to her.

Either way, Harry was happy. Happier than he'd been in a long time.

However, this bright spark in his otherwise dull and confined existence didn't stop him from being utterly bored each and everyday. The numerous daily meetings with the OsCorp board of directors were monotonous, even if he enjoyed the power he held over people twice his age. Especially Menken.

He filled his day in between meetings with drinking, seeing Hayley, and ritualistically watching the news. Harry had immensely enjoyed the destruction Rhino had caused in Alphabet City. Seeing the seeds of Project Sinister being sown only made him hunger for his own release, so that he could contribute more to the plan he and Gustav Fiers had concocted. Especially since he was, indirectly, the financial benefactor of these new villains.

Seeing the mechanical Rhino suit in action and the Hunter's OsCorp army prototype crossbow, made him long for his armoured suit and glider. Though he quickly reasoned that it was in fact the Goblin who yearned for it, not himself. Besides, Harry had no idea where his green armour had disappeared to when they pried it off his body all those months ago. If he had to guess, it was probably somewhere extremely obvious, like back in Special Projects. However, he wasn't stupid enough to access the computer files and look.

As it was, his movements while under house arrest were monitored closely. His emails, phone calls, computer and Internet activity were screened, as were his visitors, not that he had any visitors other than Hayley. It meant that communication with Fiers was limited and had to be sneaky. So sneaky, that they had discovered a method of contact that the court assigned investigative agents had overlooked; the postal service.

In this day and age of technology, the probing agency had neglected to factor in methods of communication that didn't require a microchip. It was quite comical really. Harry would delight in permanently removing these agents… what was their name? Armor or Hammer… Defend, was it? He couldn't remember, but they would fall in the end.

The weekly letters from Fiers gave Harry a small shred of control, a sinister taste of the power he would wield as the rightful leader of the chosen five, with himself making six.

But until his time under house arrest was over and society deemed him normal again, Harry was stuck with his suffocating boredom.

Some days, he would even pretend to have a goblin relapse just so that Hayley would drop everything and break up the tedium with a second daily visit.

Today was not one of those false relapse days. In fact, today happened to be the second of his twice-weekly counselling sessions, a day that he loathed. Hayley was always more severe and sombre during their sessions, never any fun at all.

He commended her on how dedicated she was to his care, to her role as a psychiatrist, but he was over this charade. Harry was free from Ravencroft, certified sane, so why he was forced into the position of troubled rich kid, he did not understand. And the other thing that bugged him was how Hayley had become even more professionally focused ever since she'd accepted his gala invite the previous week. It was like she now had to prove that their going together was strictly business, when they both knew it was anything but. If it didn't irritate him so, the gesture could be considered sweet.

And Harry, no, the Goblin, didn't do sweet.

Harry tapped his fingers rhythmically on his knee as he stared out the giant windows of the penthouse. In particular, he focused on the birds flitting through the sky, soaring up and down and around, like he had once done on his missing glider. They looked so free, so effortless. It was hard not to envy them.

"Harry? _Harry_?"

Turning his gaze and attention away from the feathered flyers, Harry finally focused on the redhead, who was pursing her lips in an annoyed fashion. Not that she'd ever voice her frustration.

"I know it might be hard to focus, but please try," Hayley reasoned. "Tell me, how are you adjusting to the change of living in Osborn Manor? It's been just over a month now."

He shrugged and glanced back to the window, "It's alright."

"Alright?"

"Better than Ravencroft."

Hayley sighed heavily - it was like getting blood from a stone. "You'll have to give me more than that."

"Are we in a session?" Harry asked casually, still refusing to give her his whole focus.

Their psychotherapy sessions were the only time that he didn't give his full attention to her. Instead he remained aloof, cutting himself off from the situation.

Rolling her eyes, Hayley leaned forward a bit in her blue cushioned chair, "You know we are Harry. I only visit you more than once a day so that we can have these sessions. They are court mandatory! You have to start taking them seriously."

Harry stood abruptly and walked over to the window. He jumped up onto the grey sofa opposite his favourite one, and longing gazed out at the Manhattan skyline, at the bird filled blue sky.

"Look, I know you hate this, but I still have to do therapy with you. How am I meant to write reports on our sessions if we don't have any? If you don't communicate with me?"

"Just make something up," he snapped, watching the birds hypnotically swaying up high in the breeze.

"You know I can't. It would be going against my Hippocratic oath."

"You've done it before," Harry stated simply, before looking back at her, smiling. It was a grin that was neither kind nor sinister, but more a satisfied smirk, like he knew more than he should.

Like he knew all her secrets.

Hayley shuffled awkwardly in her seat, unable to hold his meaningful scrutiny. She questioned in her mind, how much Harry did know about the corners she'd cut to give him the best possible treatment in Ravencroft.

Manners had continued to administer his medication during her short absence, which meant the lawyer had read all her notes and discovered her drug-dispensing secret. Could that be what Harry was referring to? Or maybe the time when she'd discovered him beaten and bloodied, and snuck him extra pain medication and an icepack. Hayley and done many off the books actions to ensure Harry's recovery. And although that may not have truly gone against her Hippocratic oath, it definitely would be considered unprofessional, and in some cases, illegal

Did he mean all of those times? Or maybe it was a small dig at when they shared their first heated moment, at her misconduct of kissing a patient.

Hayley shuddered, hoping he was not referring to the latter.

"Birds are beautiful aren't they," she said changing the subject and softening her tone as she went to stand next to him on the sofa. "They transcend everything, existing in their own world and ours. They are free in a way humans can never be."

"It's stifling being back in this place," Harry muttered, his voice void of any emotion. He aggressively clutched the iron railing in front of him, his knuckles turning white. "I avoided it like the plague for so many years, exploring the world, revelling in the freedom of being away from my father. And now, every room, every hallway, even the décor, all a constant reminder of my father. Even in death, he has ensnared me to this house, to OsCorp, who are probably the only people in the world that can save me from his genetic curse."

Staying quiet, Hayley tried to make mental notes of everything he was revealing to her.

Then she squeaked and jumped as a sharp punching noise broke through the sombre silence of her patient's confession.

Harry, his fist clenched and pressed angrily against the windowpane, narrowed his blue yet green hazed eyes at the soaring Manhattan birds.

"I'm going to die," he spoke through gritted teeth, "Die alone, trapped in my father's shadow. I will never be free from him."

Hayley gently put her own hand over Harry's, coaxing him to remove it from the glass. She felt his fist uncurl, and soothingly laced her fingers between his, hoping he'd find some comfort. Plus, he wouldn't be able to punch the window again.

"I know it seems hopeless now, but you are not your father, Harry. And you won't die from this either, I won't let you. Besides, you have something your father never had."

Harry turned towards her, a questioning eyebrow quirked.

"Me," she said firmly, her earnest smile radiant. "I will help you find a cure. And you won't be alone. I'll be with you."

"Why?"

"It's part of my contract," she teased lightly. "I know you must have a serious case of cabin fever, but you only have one more month. Take it one day at a time, hmm? You've got the gala to look forward to; you'll be out and about like you used to be."

Her smile was so infectious that Harry felt himself believing her every word. He lightly stroked her fingers with his thumb, noticing her eyes quickly dart to their joined hands. An innocent gesture of friendship, which held more sentiment and meaning than she realised.

Her skin felt glorious, so cool and soft compared to his. He remembered all the times she had touched him, touched his face, his body, her movements so tender and caring. She didn't have to show such kindness, Harry realised, yet she did without instruction, without a second thought. Sure Hayley was timid and innocent in her touch, but she was slowly becoming more confident, he could see that. Holding his hand now, her skin felt electric. They fit so easily together like it was meant to be. And Harry wasn't going to let go of that feeling so easily.

"Anyway, how are you able to go to the gala? House arrest isn't over yet?" Hayley asked, casually trying to release her hand.

She tugged lightly but instantly his hand tightened in some sort of viper death grip. Quickly looking up to gauge his reaction, Hayley was greeted with a glare that clearly said "No".

So the two of them remained stood, hands joined, staring at one another.

Hayley was unsure of whether this was some sort of test or maybe a battle of wills. Either way, she offered a small smile to try and lighten the mood because Harry's glare was so intense. She could feel herself getting lost in those eyes again; those icy sparkling blue orbs that had a hint of green in them…

She stiffened, realising that a hint of green was not normal. Green was the danger colour. Green indicated the creature within stepping forward, winning control of Harry's psyche. If she weren't locked in this weird staring contest, Hayley's psychiatrist mode would kick in, wanting to jot down her observations. Her throat felt dry and her eyes ached from staring.

But then Harry blinked and the green haze disappeared. He stepped down from the sofa, pulling Hayley along for the ride.

He sat back on his grey sofa, with Hayley powerless to do anything but sit next to him. She had never sat beside him before, except in the Limo, as she wanted to maintain a professional distance.

Well, that was out the window, because as soon Hayley went to sit down, Harry yanked her closer so that their shoulders and knees were flush together. Hayley tried to surreptitiously move her legs slightly because the heat emanating from his body was proving to be her undoing. She needed to stop herself from melting against him – she could practically feel the heat rash beneath her shirt.

Unfamiliar tension was building inside her, and Harry continuously stroking her fingers was not helping. Why was he _still_ holding her hand? She needed him to let go. Not because it was awkward, but because she liked it.

"How are you able to attend the gala, Harry?" Hayley tried again, hoping to ease the deafening silence between them. She was sick of hearing her conscience buzzing at her.

"Oh, it's being lifted for the duration of the event. Part of my community service and all that rubbish," Harry replied nonchalantly, though unable to hide his bitterness as he bit out the last word.

"Harry! It's not rubbish! It's for charity! To repair the power plant and buildings you destroyed when Sp – "

Harry stiffened beside her and tightened his hold on her hand.

" – when you weren't yourself," she finished semi-smoothly.

He chuckled lightly, "Is that what they're saying about me? I imagine Menken has spread numerous rumours trying to taint what little reputation I have left."

"I haven't heard any rumours. Not at OsCorp anyway."

Smiling to himself at her innocence, Harry finally released her hand so that he could run both his hands through his hair and over his face.

"You won't hear any rumours Hayley because you are too close to me," he stated exasperatedly," Menken's lies will be business tactics to tarnish my ability as CEO. Any gossip you _might_ hear, will be about us."

"Us?" Hayley squeaked. "I know about the newspaper gossip, but none of that has been spoken about around OsCorp."

Tittering again, Harry shook is head in indignation; was she really that stupid, that blind? She hadn't heard any gossip because it would be spoken about her behind her back. OsCorp was a full-blown rumour mill with the company being so large – office people thrived on gossip.

"I'm serious! There are no rumours about you at all, except…" Hayley trailed off suddenly remembering a conversation she overhead the other day.

Harry didn't miss a thing.

"Except what, Hayley?" he adamantly asked – she wasn't going to get out of this one. Harry put is arm around the back of the couch and stared at her intently, waiting for her response.

Looking dead ahead, anywhere but him really, Hayley recounted what she heard.

"I was in the elevator, it was quite crowded. I was stuck at the back, behind some tall men, so no one could see me, but there were lots of the secretary girls in front of us. They were discussing the gala, dresses, and all that girl talk…one of the girl's was Felicia."

She quickly glanced at Harry to see his reaction before continuing; he didn't seem fazed at all, just a raised eyebrow in interest. And those eyes, god, his eyes were so expressive, but with an emotion she could not pinpoint.

Turning to face the window again, Hayley continued, her voice with an unusual hard edge. "She was very adamant that you two are going together. Going to the gala. She wouldn't stop going on about it to the other secretaries. Apparently you're her boyfriend."

"Does that upset you?"

"It's none of my business really," Hayley replied stiffly, "I just find it odd that her boyfriend is actually taking me to the gala."

Harry had to bite his lip to keep himself from laughing - Hayley was jealous of Felicia, who would have thought. Plus, jealousy looked so darn cute on her.

"_So you like the green eyed monster on her, but you won't ever allow me to come out when you're with her," _the Goblin muttered sarcastically in Harry's mind. "_I'm not stupid. I could feel you supressing me when you were kissing her at Ravencroft – "_

"I'll talk to her," Harry responded quickly, ignoring the Goblin's snarky comments.

"It's ok," she said quietly, "I told her you weren't allowed to have a relationship."

"What?" laughed Harry, practically spluttering, unable to keep the hilarity of the situation from entering his voice.

"I mean, I just thought that…erm…you know, maybe we would talk about it in our sessions? It would be a big change for you…maybe?" Hayley said nervously, her previous confident delivery vanishing, as she started doubting her decision to intervene in his affairs without asking.

It had been very awkward for Hayley to approach the lying brunette but a strange anger fuelled her actions – it was very out of character.

"I wouldn't normally do something like that, it's just that whenever I saw her she'd be talking about it, and I had to intervene," Hayley started to ramble. "Like how could you be her boyfriend when you asked me? I know she saw you in Ravencroft, but you're not right? You're too good for her anyway."

"Jealous are we?" Harry teased.

He was getting immense satisfaction at seeing her getting this flustered and passionate about something, especially when that something was him. And, he couldn't deny how hot she looked with her eyes wide and chest heaving with anxious breaths. Now, if only he could get her to be this way and squirming beneath him…

"No. It's just that rumours are ugly and I don't think she should be spreading lies, because you're not her boyfriend. I mean, you're not, at least I don't think you are…"

God, her eager and nervous face was so attractive, Harry just wanted to kiss her worries away. He could practically hear the Goblin salivating at her beauteous need for validation.

Harry slowly leaned forwards and gently stroked her cheek, "Felicia is nothing to me. Nothing. She is not worthy of my time. Do you understand?"

Hayley nodded slowly, desperately trying not to close her eyes and lean into his touch.

"If you remember, one has to be special and deserving of my attention if they are worthy…." Harry bent closer so that he could whisper in her ear, "…and you know there is only one person who is worthy… and that's you."

"_That's you Ginge,"_ purred the Goblin, but only for Harry to hear in his mind.

Hayley felt his breath caress her ear, making all the little hairs on her arms and neck spark up. Her ear was on fire; she could practically sense his lips edging closer and closer and closer. He was going to kiss her, Hayley knew it, he was going to kiss her for the first time since Ravencroft. And she wanted it, she desperately wanted him to…

"I have something to ask!" she yelled, suddenly jumping up from the sofa.

Harry let his head flop back over the couch top, exhausted. Did that really happen? Did she just deny him, again? Her innocence was killing him. His sexual frustration was killing him.

"More questions?" he moaned utterly defeated.

"Oh, well, I guess it could wait until after therapy," Hayley said, beginning to remember that they were actually meant to be in a session.

Harry always did this, always distracted her to avoid answering pressing and meaningful questions. They were never going to work through his issues at this rate.

Lifting his wrist to his slung back head, Harry inspected his Rolex; "You're off the clock now, doll. Session is over."

_Thank god,_ Harry thought.

"You know the gala is a black tie event, well, what kind of dress does that mean?" she queried, feeling slightly embarrassed by her lack of knowledge. "I only own two, and they're a bit…erm…I don't think they're going to be suitable - "

"Did I not say?" replied Harry, sitting up properly, his face serious, "I got Connolly to call the girls at DVF to pick out a gown for you."

"Wh-what?"

"Your dress needs to match the colour of my tie," he said simply, like it was obvious.

"Wow…erm…wow. Thank, thank you…you're too kind Harry."

"Just make sure you get here by five on Saturday. Apparently it'll take over an hour to get your hair and makeup done, so I'm told."

He'd organised for a professional hair and makeup artist as well as a designer gown… Hayley wanted to faint at his generosity.

* * *

Hayley was really glad that she didn't have to do her own hair and makeup, because there was no way she could have ever made herself look like this. The only makeup she owned was mascara and lip-gloss; she wore the former every day and only used the latter for a special occasion.

The charity gala was a special occasion but there was no lip-gloss in sight. No, apparently it was all about the nude lip and smoky eye. That's what Lucy, the hair and makeup artist, told her after she had completed painting Hayley's face. She had even used a silver sparkling eye shadow to dust Hayley's cheekbones with. Not only would it make her slim face shine but it matched her evening bag. The designer handbag was shaped like a star, adorned with silver glitter, and it hung on a long sleek silver chain strap.

Along with the silver sparkle on her cheeks, Hayley's dark makeup looked striking on her porcelain skin, surrounding her green eyes with mystery. The overall look was beautifully haunting.

However, her hair was what Hayley loved most about her transformation.

She only wore it up everyday for convenience and had no clue what hairstyle suited her. At least her perfectly made hair was in a style she recognised, a ponytail, but that's where her knowledge stopped. As soon as Lucy brought out a curling wand, Hayley just sat back and let the magic happen. Her auburn hair was pulled up high, fastened, and all wisps and flyaway strands sprayed into conformity. Then small sections of the pony were delicately curled and the teased apart, so that the overall style was sleek on top but messy in the back.

Hayley thought she looked like a woodland fairy.

"All done," Lucy smiled happily, spraying one final misting over her ginger creation. "You look gorgeous hun, Mr Osborn won't know what to do with himself."

"Erm is there any jewellery?" Hayley asked quickly, not wanting to think how Harry would react – she barely recognised herself in the mirror!

"Not that I know of," replied the makeup artist, who was now busily packing up all her hair wands and jars of lotions and potions. "Your dress is in that garment bag on the wardrobe."

When Lucy had arrived, Connolly showed Hayley and the artist into one of the small guest bedrooms up in Harry's penthouse, so that they could have some privacy. The bedroom was stunning and had the same mahogany décor that seemed to be a prominent theme in the Osborn Manor. The room also had an en suite bathroom, a variety of expensive art pieces, a queen-sized bed, a huge Narnia-like wardrobe, and a mirrored vanity table that Hayley had been sitting at. But now, with the promise of her designer dress only a few metres away from her, Hayley quickly rushed out of her seat and over to the wardrobe.

She carefully unzipped the bag, unveiling a long column like dress; it was sleeveless with a bateau neckline that would show off her slim collarbones. It was stunning and made of cool floating silk. The dress was pure black.

"Match the colour of his tie my ass," Hayley said quietly, a grin of pure joy on her face.

The dress was elegant in its simplicity – it fit her personality perfectly. Completely understated, completely her. She had to hand it to Harry; he had style and knew exactly what to ask for when requesting a designer gown.

Lifting the dress and its hanger out of the garment bag, Hayley turned over the dress, eager to get it on.

And that's when the dress stopped being beautiful.

Hayley's eyes widened, her breathing momentarily stopped, and she felt sick to her stomach.

The dress was partially backless.

Tears began to form in her eyes though she refused to let them fall. Hayley had just had spent two hours getting made up and, damn it, she would not let this ruin the night. Could she really wear this? Could she muster the courage to expose her back to the world?

The fabric on the back of the dress was draped in delicate layers that would end underneath her shoulder blades. Her whole body would be covered except the top of her back. This had to be a mistake. It had to be. Harry would never request a dress like this, he knew about her scars, he knew…unless… it was a test.

This was another one of his stupid tests!

Shaking her head defiantly, Hayley knew she couldn't let him win, and as much as she would hate what she as about to do, it would be easier than displaying her burns. She whirled round and ran towards Lucy who was heading out to leave.

"Do you have any boob tape?"

* * *

Harry was standing in his bathroom, struggling with the sleek black tie that would complete his three-piece suit. His hair was perfectly blow-dried and his black Italian leather shoes were freshly polished, squeaking on the beautifully tiled floor. He was as ready as he was ever going to be…except for his blasted tie.

"Hayley!" Harry shouted over his shoulder, "Hey, Hayley, get in here!"

She had to be finished getting ready by now!

Plus, he was eager to see how she'd respond to his little game. Hayley would not refuse to wear the dress, of that he was certain. Whatever move she did make, her actions would be telling. Her only two choices were to accept his challenge with no resistance, or to make a fuss but still wear it. To be submissive or to weakly rebel. Harry had her cornered – it was practically checkmate.

"Hayley! I need you to do my tie!" he called again, staring at himself in the bathroom mirrors.

The door to his right opened.

"Hey?" Hayley said slowly, popping her head in thoroughly confused, "How did you get in my bathroom?"

"Technically," Harry replied fixing his shirt collar, still looking at the mirror, "This is _my_ bathroom."

He pointed towards a door on his left by the strikingly gleaming bath. The door was slightly ajar showing his bedroom on the other side.

"How…. no, _why_ do you have a bathroom with two doors? Wait, _why _do you have two bedrooms sharing the_ same_ bathroom?"

"Well, you know, I am rich."

"Yeah no shit, this dress is like pure silk," Hayley muttered.

Rolling his eyes at her comment, Harry gave her a quick sideways glance.

His jaw dropped immediately, eyes widening in appreciation of her body, her hair, her…everything. He was completely stunned at how different Hayley appeared; it was still her underneath the makeup and upper class glamour, just with her natural beauty enhanced.

She was a vision.

"You…you look beautiful," Harry whispered, his voice rumbling, the words getting caught in his throat.

Hayley mumbled a quiet "thanks" and something that he couldn't quite catch because she was staring at the floor in embarrassment.

It was only with her face pointed down that Harry became aware that the dress was wrong; she was wearing it back to front.

It was not a move he had anticipated, not in a million years. Though he could not deny that being treated to a very flattering view of her chest wasn't a bad thing.

She had won. It was checkmate indeed.

"I match your tie," smiled Hayley shyly, not wanting any more awkward silences.

"My tie? Yes, my tie, it's difficult to…I can't tie it with the lesion on my neck," he admitted lamely – he hated exposing any weakness but today the wound was extremely sore.

Hayley rushed over to him, forgetting her previous discomfort from wearing the dress. Carefully she turned up his collar and untied the messy knot he'd created. She began to tie it properly, remembering how from when she did her father's tie as a child. Hayley took her time, conscious not to aggravate his lesion. Though she quickly became very aware of him staring at her strangely.

"Is that dress on the right way?" he asked casually whilst reaching behind her to stroke her unplanned covered back.

"Yes," Hayley replied curtly.

Smirking at her ire, Harry began to twirl the tips of her long messy ponytail between his fingers, "Are you sure?"

She bristled, tugging a little too firmly on the silken tie strip, "Eyes up Mr Osborn."

"Hey, if you're looking at my chest, then why can't I admire yours?"

"I _have _to look at you to do your tie. _You _don't have to look at me," she stated awkwardly, a heavy flush burning her cheeks.

"Trust me, I do," he purred.

Harry had no idea how the draped fabric was staying in place, only that it looked striking and elegantly provocative. On anyone else, the dress would seem promiscuous, however with her dainty frame and small chest, Hayley wore it with class. She would be the envy of every woman at the gala. And he would be the envy of every man. They were perfect for each other. Harry could think of no one better to have by his side.

With the tie perfectly fastened, Hayley tried to step back quickly, away from his personal space. However, with his fingers still curled in her hair, she really didn't get very far.

"Well, if I had any jewellery you could at least pretend to stare at that."

"Why do girls know everything?"

"Huh?"

Taking her by the hand, Harry led the redhead silently out of the bathroom, through his bedroom, and out to his sofa in the living room area. He was going so fast, clearly on a mission, that Hayley barely had enough time to stare in awe at his room. It was a blur of wealth, mahogany, ceiling high bookshelves, and the biggest bed she'd ever seen.

But she couldn't even think about that with Harry gently pushing her to sit on the grey sofa. He crouched down before her and fiddled with something she could not see underneath the sofa. She eyed him suspiciously before her they widened as he produced a large red leather box.

It had the words 'Cartier' stamped on in gold.

Carefully, Harry snapped the box open, revealing a diamond and emerald necklace with a matching pair of stud earrings. The stones glistened and sparkled in the artificial light, their precious value apparent in the richness of colour twinkling on Hayley's pale skin. It was strange how the rainbow prisms from the diamonds were glittering in her eyes, but the green from the emeralds covered her face in a subtle hue.

"_Told you green would look good on her," _the Goblin joked to himself and his host. _"She would look even better with me wrapped around her."_

"Very funny," Harry thought dryly.

He licked his lips nervously, unsure what to do now that the box was open, his present revealed. Hayley had gone quiet and still, with only her hitched breathing to show any sort of response. Continuously, Harry flicked his eyes from her face to the jewels and back again, trying to elicit a reaction from her, trying to understand what was going through her mind.

"Say something," he said quietly. It was not an order or an unkind request, but simply an uncertain and almost rejection filled plea.

His words snapped her instantly from her jewelled trance and Hayley looked up at him straight in his tentative blue eyes.

"For me?" she asked in wonder.

"For you."

"They're real?"

"Of course," Harry grinned, happy to see her finally understanding the reality of his expensive gift.

She touched the largest emerald stone with a trembling hand, before reclining it and shaking her head. "They're beautiful Harry, but you can't, I don't deserve –"

Before she could even finish, Harry placed a single finger on her lips, quelling her remaining words immediately. He stood and carefully removed the luxurious necklace from its casing before laying the partially empty box on her lap. Leaning over her, Harry moved her hair to one side and fastened the necklace around her neck. Hayley's hand flew to her chest as the cool jewels settled there; it was heavy yet light at the same time.

"You deserve the world Hayley," said Harry calmly, before kissing her upon her head, causing Hayley to glance up at him. "And I want to give it to you."

* * *

The Limo ride to their destination was relatively slow due to the usual Manhattan traffic.

The charity gala was being held at The Waldorf-Astoria on Park Avenue and would feature a red carpet complete with the usual paparazzi. Apparently this was going to be one of the biggest events of the year, especially since Harry would be out in public for the first time since his court trial. Hayley was particularly nervous about all the cameras and reporters, especially after her last experience with them. Harry explained that his appearance would garner them a lot of unwanted attention, which was why James and Pete, his bodyguards, were in the Limo with them.

Many other big names would be in attendance. Hayley sat quietly beside Harry whilst he ran through the numerous names and titles of important people and the elite she would be meeting. The only names she recognised were Manners and the Mayor.

The he told her that they might be expected to dance, as there would be a string orchestra playing throughout the night. Hayley was already anxious with trying not to trip in her glittering sky-high Louboutin heels, and obsessively checking that her boob tape was still sticky. So much could go wrong with her appearance alone, and then to throw dancing into the mix, well, Hayley could all ready tell that she wouldn't get through the evening unscathed.

The car came to a stop and Hayley's mouth went dry.

"Time for round one," Harry muttered before exiting the Limo when the outside porter opened the door. He offered Hayley his hand and she slide out to stand next to him on the plush red carpet. "If the cameras freak you out, just look at me, or pretend the reporters are all naked."

She laughed and clutched at his arm as they started walking past press. "Do you really imagine them like that?"

"No. But it got you to smile," he replied grinning widely at her radiant smile – she really did light up when she laughed.

And it was all for him, and only him.

They stopped for a bit so that the media could have their fill; the flickering and flashing cameras were blinding but Hayley soon learnt to semi ignore it. Instead of focusing on them she chose to stare up at Harry like he suggested. She noticed how oddly calm he was, not even a twitch, completely serene among the sharks.

"Go on, tell me your secret then," Hayley enquired fondly, "How do you ignore them."

Harry smiled down at her. "I just imagine them in –" he stopped mid sentence, eyes focusing on a tall skinny reporter with glasses that Hayley could not see.

Peter Parker.

" - I just imagine how stupidly pathetic their lives must be and how easily I could destroy them…"

"Wait, what? Ah!"

Hayley squeaked as Harry took her hand, flung her away from him and then twirled her like a ballerina. Her dress billowed out in the wind like dark batwings, showcasing her slim legs and tiny waist. The cameras went crazy. She could barely see anything, only that Harry had a satisfied smirk on his lips, which she didn't feel was completely directed at her. Was he looking at her or behind her? Hayley couldn't tell.

When he pulled her back to his side, Hayley asked, "What was that for?"

"The dress needs to be photographed properly for the designer," Harry replied distractedly, narrowing his locked eyes at his former friend. But when Hayley turned to see what had his attention, he quickly grasped her face, capturing her lips in a small lingering kiss.

Once again, the paparazzi went crazy, with James and Pete having to prevent a zealous photographer from jumping the red carpet barriers.

"What was that for?" she repeated softly, her legs turning to jelly.

Harry smirked, flipping away his fallen bangs before quickly glancing at her chest. "You're heat rash is adorable," he chuckled, "Not even emeralds can hide that."

Hayley hastily put her hand to her chest, covering the redness by pretending to fiddle with her necklace.

Slinging his arm around her waist, Harry guided them both away from the cameras and further up the carpet. He couldn't help but laugh at her silly attempt to hide her heated reaction to his kiss.

"If you keep touching it, it'll get worse," he hummed.

"I blame you for this entirely," she scowled at him.

Moving to whisper in her ear, Harry growled, "If you were wearing your dress properly then there'd be no need to hide it."

"HARRY, MY BOY!" came a booming voice.

Harry turned sharply upon hearing his name and walked confidently towards a very tall, very large bald man. The two exchanged a firm handshake while Hayley simply stared in awe at the strange man. She had to crane her neck to see his face he was so tall, probably over six foot, at least!

The burly man wore an all white suit with a purple velvet waistcoat and matching pocket-handkerchief. He even had an expensive sleek cane topped by a solid silver skull with red ruby jewelled eyes.

Like Harry, this man wore wealth like it was pittance.

_There is no doubt he is filthy rich,_ Hayley thought.

She tried not to stare too much that it would be considered rude, but then the man faced her, revealing a guff and worn face.

"And who is this pretty little thing?" he roared with a sincere smile.

Hayley had no idea what to say. What was she exactly? Harry's friend, his associate, his nurse, his psychiatrist, his date, his…

"This is Hayley Carmichael, my…I think I've mentioned her before?" Harry replied, clearly as stumped on an introduction as she was.

He gave her a little push in the small of her back when the bald man held out his ginormous hand adorned with sovereign rings.

"Ah yes, the psychiatrist," the man murmured, bringing her hand to his lips for a customary introduction kiss, causing Hayley to stand on her tiptoes. "I'm privileged to finally meet you, Harry often speaks of you."

"He does?" Hayley squeaked as she took her hand back, her green eyes darting between the two men questioningly.

"Of course! Now, where are my manners Miss Carmichael? Wilson Fisk, philanthropist."

"Oh please, call me Hayley," she corrected kindly. "It's wonderful to meet you Mr Fisk." She remembered that he was also a billionaire from what Harry had told her on the ride over.

The reporters and cameras were going wild again, becoming overtly animated at the joy of having two very important people and a ginger gossip enhancer, in one photo. Hayley glanced around, clinging to Harry tightly, starting to get alarmed at all the attention.

"You best be getting inside, young man," Fisk declared slapping Harry on the back, "Twenty minutes until our speech."

Harry nodded grimly. He walked away briskly with Hayley practically skipping in her unsteady heels to catch up.

When they finally left the red carpet and entered the white and gold building of The Waldorf-Astoria, she felt a little relieved. No more paparazzi. Thank god.

The foyer of the hotel was just as expensive as the Osborn Manor, except it was extremely light and vast in comparison, with a cream and gold décor. Beautifully dressed people milled around the marble floor, flute glasses filled with champagne in their hands. There were a lot of air kissing and business handshakes as Manhattan's finest "oohed" and "awed" at each other's expensive attire, throwing false compliments around like feeding crumbs to pigeons.

Many individuals openly stared at Harry and Hayley as they zigzagged through the crowd trying to enter the main ballroom.

Though she was fairly certain that their eyes were transfixed on the young OsCorp CEO's un-goblin like appearance, Hayley couldn't help but remember the subway ride when the commuters stared at her. If anyone did recognise her, since her auburn hair was pretty memorable, their first impressions would be taken from gossip columns of the newspapers. It made her sad that there was already a preconceived notion that she was a fame hungry, career furthering, whorish gold-digger. Her only solace was that Wilson Fisk hadn't looked at her that way. The man seemed to genuinely interested in her like she was a real person and not just some arm candy.

Hayley vowed to get her reputation on the right track, and unfortunately, that meant she would probably have to mingle.

They had reached the heart of the lavish ballroom, which was packed tightly. The huge room was outlined with stone pillars that encircled a cream and gold marble dance floor. There was also a massive winding staircase that led guests to the bathrooms and their prepaid and assigned rooms, should they need them. Servers wondered with posh gourmet canapés and expensive champagne. Professional event photographers roamed the ballroom, taking candid snaps of the most fashionably dressed elite. A group of handpicked reporters from the finest newspapers would also be allowed in the hotel whilst Fisk and Harry gave their speech.

Harry could see Fisk standing near the stage where the string orchestra and sultry solo singer were performing quietly – their purpose was to provide an ambiance and constant soothing background noise, nothing more.

He glanced at his Rolex to see that the time for his speech was imminent.

Pulling Hayley over to the back of the ballroom near the prominent staircase, Harry plonked her beside a stone pillar like she was a naughty child in time out.

"I need you to stay here. Do you understand? Do not move from this spot," he instructed slowly, leaning his hand on the pillar so that he was bearing down above her.

"Erm, sure," Hayley answered cautiously, licking her lips nervously, "But if you're going to do your speech, should I not stand nearer the stage?" When he began to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration, she tried a different tactic. "For moral support I mean. But it's fine, I'll stay here, cheering you on from the side-lines," she spoke quickly, "I don't want to interfere."

"Good. See that you don't move," he commanded before stalking away leaving Hayley alone, completely and utterly confused.

It's not he didn't want Hayley by the stage but he needed to concentrate on giving his first public speech since his incarceration. He had to convince several hundred people that his face, the Osborn pretty boy face, was his true form. The goblin incident had to be wiped from their minds, that it was just an unfortunate fluke. They needed to see him as a powerful man again, someone who could not only run the largest business in New York, but also as a legitimate and confident businessman. He would be the centre of attention. He had to control the crowd with his words, for them to see the world his way, if he had any chance of a successful comeback. And Hayley standing with him as he gave his speech would simply destroy the carefully planned facade. Harry didn't care what anyone thought about them and was happy to be seen with her at the gala, however delivering the speech was a different story.

Everyone knew she was his latest conquest, so the papers said, but he was certain that Menken would have slipped her true nature to any potential business partners. If he stood on stage with his psychiatrist hanging on to his every word, then he would be portrayed as weak. People would perceive him as a psycho.

With a million pairs of judging eyes, Harry had to stay supreme.

_Maybe it would have been better to take Felicia,_ Harry though fleetingly.

But when he walked on stage and saw Hayley's defeated face at the back of the crowd, unable to even look at him, Harry instantly felt guilty.

"There is a disease in this city," he started, his voice clear and collected, ringing loudly through the microphone, "A cancerous plague that attracts vigilantism and monsters to roam free through this glorious metropolis that we call our home. As you are undoubtedly aware, I myself have faced many challenging demons since the death of my father, the great Norman Osborn. He did not just leave me a business, an empire, no, he left me a New York institution, and it is my duty to protect it. But too often lately, criminals, intent on destroying it, have preyed on both OsCorp and this city.

"Now, I am no saint. My experience with the Spider-Man has opened my eyes to the true injustice in this city, and that is what the villains and heroes leave in their wake; irreparable damage. And who will pay for their lasting destruction? Not them, but the citizens of New York. That, my friends, is an injustice. Which is why I am happy to announce that a charity has been set up to help repair the ruined buildings and landmarks, not only damaged by myself several months ago, but also from this day forward. This charity is a joint venture with a man who, like me, wants to help."

Stepping back from the microphone, Harry searched the crowd for Hayley's auburn hair for comfort, but he saw nothing.

Wilson Fisk took centre stage next.

"This young man was wrongfully framed by Spider-Man, incarcerated and morally destroyed by a vigilante that is just as guilty for property damage as the villains. The Osborn and Fisk foundation wishes to undo the lingering devastation and costs left by these actions.

"It is our privilege to rebuild this great city. Mr Osborn and I are financing this charity ourselves, rather than increase the burden on taxpayers. However, ladies and gentlemen, we call on you, the people who have the resources, to donate what you are able. This city still faces unprecedented threats, and more money will be needed to continue this charity, this business venture. Your donations will ensure all damage is repaired. Vigilantes like Spider-Man only make the problem worse," finished Mr Fisk, his beady eyes bearing down on the silent crowd.

Harry moved forward and took to the microphone again, to have the final word.

"This is our city. And we are taking it back, rebuilding it brick by brick. Together."

Stupendous applause filled the ballroom, echoing around the high ceilings, shaking the chandeliers with the noise intensity. Already corporate colleagues and company financers were retrieving their wallets and selecting their chequebooks. Such was the power and certainty behind Harry and Fisk's words that the crowd was already willing to donate and back the charity. Besides, what rich man or wealthy woman would not donate to a cause with such a lasting effect on their city?

As the two business tycoons vacated the stage and the orchestra began to play once more, Fisk caught the young Osborn by the arm before he was able to leave.

"I am still more than willing to take OsCorp off your hands," Fisk spoke quietly.

"And my answer is still no," Harry replied sternly, his tone also discreet, not wanting to attract any eavesdroppers.

"That's fine. I'll just wait until you die of the disease that killed your father."

Harry glared at the large and powerful man, wanting to say more, but a server with a tray of champagne flutes suddenly stood before them expectantly. Taking the opportunity to walk away from the conversation, Harry picked up a glass and left. More than anything he wished he could fight back at such a comment, but there would be no confrontations tonight. Instead, he decided to head back to the pillar in search of Hayley.

When he reached the spot, the redhead was nowhere in sight, her absence filled by a tall handsome lawyer. The ever-enigmatic Dave Manners.

"I just caught the tail end of your speech," he said smoothly, lifting his champagne glass in toast. "Very good, very powerful. Practically believed every word," Manners smiled, knowing that Harry wouldn't have formed this charity if not for the terms and conditions of his release from Ravencroft. "I didn't plan on being this late but you know New York, always a hold up somewhere. No girl on your arm Harry? I'm shocked. Have you gone stag?"

"Mmm, yeah, something like that," Harry replied not really listening, He was too busy looking around wildly for Hayley who still hadn't reappeared. It was beginning to worry him. "Did you come alone?" he asked, trying to keep up the conversation so he didn't seem suspicious.

"No," Manners replied, "I brought Karen, my secretary. She's over there."

Harry glanced in the general direction that the lawyer had pointed, but as soon as he saw blonde hair, he looked away. They were all the same, Manners' girlfriends. Blonde. The lawyer had had so many over the years that for Harry, the girls had all morphed into one.

If he had looked properly, Harry would have noticed that Karen was bubbly chatting away to a redhead.

"So where's Felicia," asked the lawyer.

"How would I know? She might not even be here," he replied uncaringly, draining his glass.

"I thought your were bringing her?" Manners inquired suddenly becoming cross, "Hang on, I told her you were taking her. Who the hell did you bring?"

"Ah, so that's where she got the idea."

"I'm serious, who did you bring?"

Both men were torn away from their heated conversation when a shrill and piercing laugh caught their attention.

Karen was giggling loudly in between large gulps of champagne. She had her arm looped with another girl's since she kept tripping over invisible objects, so quickly had she become intoxicated. The girl, who was desperately trying to prevent Karen from toppling over, saw the two men staring and smiled. The redhead waved at them warmly, before deftly removing the half-filled glass from Karen who pouted in mock annoyance.

"My date, ever the helper it seems," Harry smiled back, shaking his head at the hilarious spectacle. He felt calm having found her again.

"Christ Harry! What were you thinking?" Manners chastised, practically foaming at the mouth. "Hayley! You brought Hayley of all people. You can't take Hayley!"

"I can and I have. I'm Harry Osborn I can do whatever I like," he growled in agitation.

"Yes, but Harry, be smart! The paparazzi must have had a field day; you will both be front-page news! Again! Do you not understand that her professional standing will be compromised? People will question her ability to treat you, her ability – "

"You are missing the point Manners," Harry cut in sharply, "Hayley is mine and I can do whatever I please."

"You can't own a person Harry."

"Watch me."

Manners reeled at the confession, thinking about what Emily Baker had said previously, about ownership and possessive nature in erotic transference cases.

He watched Harry's eyes narrow dangerously as two men approached Hayley and a wobbly Karen, one putting his hand on the redhead's arm – a slight green tinge clouded Harry's usual icy blue irises.

"You might want to handle that Manners," he said darkly, nodding over to the girls. "That short man is an editor from The Daily Bugle. You wouldn't Hayley's professional standing to be comprised."

Harry stalked away from the lawyer and away from Hayley, choosing instead to ascend the large staircase that led to the other hotel rooms. He desperately wanted reclaim his girl and spend the evening showing her off, but he had other things to take care off.

During his little argument with the lawyer, Harry had noticed Mr Fiers standing in the shadows atop the staircase landing. His presence indicated that an important meeting was ready to begin.

And how could it start without its rightful leader?

* * *

Hayley was beginning to get bored.

The gala was beautiful, every thing she could have imagined and so much more.

But it sucked without Harry.

That's not to say that she was ungrateful for Karen having taken her under her wing. The blonde was really sweet and funny, nothing like the girls at Ravencroft at least. Hayley was overjoyed to learn that Manners had brought Karen as his date – that was two more familiar faces she could cling to. However, the lawyer had been sour the entire evening, not even offering any meaningful conversation like he usually did. Instead, it seemed he was determined to become as drunk as Karen, but not out of enjoyment and celebratory spirit. It was almost like he was drinking out of anger.

Hayley didn't know what was going on, only that a drunken lawyer was not a good look for Manners.

"Do you know where Harry went? He's been awhile," she asked sadly. Even though she was with friends, Hayley felt lost without him.

"Went upstairs…stupid rich idiot," Manners muttered irritably, frowning at his empty glass.

Karen gave him a small smack on his shoulder to which he frowned. "Don't be such a sour grumpy puss, Dave," she jokingly reprimanded before giving him a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

Clearly they had overcome their employee boundaries.

Hayley was still shocked at hearing the blonde call Manners by his first name! No one called him that, like no one used Hayley's last name. It just sounded wrong.

"Go find your man, Hayley. I want to teach this one how to dance," Karen twittered loudly. The blonde then proceeded to drag a very disgruntled Manners onto the dance floor.

Standing alone was not an option, so Hayley decided to go on the hunt for the missing Osborn.

* * *

She had been walking up and down the winding corridors for a good thirty minutes. Every sound, every muffled conversation, Hayley would strain to listen in case she heard Harry's charismatic voice. There were so many white and gold numbered doors that she had lost count how many she'd pressed an ear to.

The hotel seemed to be endless and she was beginning to give up hope. She could feel blisters on her toes from the designer heels and even the light chain of her evening bag felt heavy. Searching blindly was not getting her anywhere, and after hearing the rude noises emanating behind one too many doors, Hayley decided to call it quits.

Turning quickly to go back the way she came, Hayley crashed into the body of a tall man.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry sir," Hayley quickly apologised.

A gentleman wearing a trench coat over his immaculate suit and a black fedora stepped back to survey the girl.

"Mr Osborn is in Room 136," the stranger spoke quietly, though his voice seemed so loud among the silent halls. "Always a pleasure bumping into you Miss Carmichael."

The man gave slight nod before walking away from her with purpose, clearly on his own mission. Hayley just stared as he got further and further away from her. She knew that man, didn't she? Didn't she recognise him from Ravencroft? With that hat, Hayley was unable to see his face, so instead decided to focus on what he had said.

Room 136…that sounded extremely familiar.

Rolling her eyes, Hayley couldn't believe how obvious a choice the room number was; it was the same as Harry's room at Ravencroft.

With renewed vigour, the redhead raced down the direction the stranger had come from. There was a corridor on her right that she had originally missed, hidden by a large plant and satin drapes, disguising a small T-junction in the otherwise straight hallway. No one would know it was there unless they were told. Obviously the corridor housed rooms for the wealthier more discreet guests.

Hayley batted away the curtain and followed the new passage until she finally found the bloody room.

136.

The door was ajar.

She could hear hushed voices, and one definitely sounded like her missing man. So Hayley decided to be brave and knocked.

"Harry?"

Even though there were five men in the dim room, no one turned in response to her voice. Except Harry.

He causally glanced at the redhead who was peeking round the door.

"Leave us," he ordered the men quietly, beckoning Hayley to enter the room properly.

The four strange gentlemen walked quickly past Hayley, shutting the door behind them. The darkness concealed any obvious features, their identities a mystery.

It was gloomy with only one lamp illuminating a small portion of the huge room. The little light there was cast strange shadows with Harry's silhouette appearing distorted and demonic like, high upon the wall behind him. Yet with the lamp directly before him, he seemed to have fire in his eyes and a warmth that she'd never seen before.

"People are asking for you downstairs, you wana head back?" she chirped, hoping to entice him with some pretend business possibilities. She just didn't want to admit he'd been missed.

"Why would I when I can be with you?" he replied, walking out of the light and away from the sofa, towards the girl.

Hayley spluttered, fiddling with her hands, not knowing what to say

"You look beautiful tonight, have I told you that?"

She nodded.

"Come here," Harry asked, a knowing smile on his face. He held out his hand and she took it when she was close. Instantly he tugged her closer, wrapping an arm round her slim waist. "Exquisite even," he purred gazing down at her.

Hayley's heart started to hammer in her chest like it always did when he was close, but this time she didn't know what to expect. He held her like they were going to start dancing the waltz. It felt strange, the two of them standing in the shadows.

Alone.

They had been alone before, many times in fact, however something felt different. It was like the air between them had shifted. Hayley felt like at any moment Harry was going to strike.

Slowly, so that she knew what he was doing, Harry adjusted their joined hands so that he could bring hers up and onto his shoulder. Then, with his hand now free, he stroked her cheek softly with his knuckles. His face was so close to hers that his breath tickled her nose. Using his fingers to guide her chin, Harry firmly held her face up and directed at him.

"I need you," he whispered darkly, "Please."

Closing her eyes, Hayley gave in to his constant tempting, finally accepting that she wanted him too.

Harry clung to her desperately, unable to conceal a groan now that her lips were on his once again. It had been so long and his need to taste her was agonising. He wanted to rediscover every single part of her. Every tentative tongue slip, every bottom lip tremble, was now his to own, to experience with his mouth once more.

Their kissing was slow, hesitant on her part, but nothing short of passionate. They melted against each other, fitting their body's close like connecting puzzle pieces. Hayley could feel herself getting more confident with every playful nip she received on her ready and needing lips.

And Harry was just as hungry.

His hand fell from her waist to grab at her ass, causing her to squeak against his lips. He chuckled, breaking their heated kiss so that they could finally breathe. Her eyes were wide like saucers again, gawking at him like she didn't trust herself to continue.

"Hayley?"

"I… -"

Harry pressed her closer into him, ever so slowly rolling his hips so that she could feel how tight his trousers were getting.

"- …I need you too."

That was all Harry ever wanted to hear.

His hands became more insistent now Hayley had given her permission, clutching at her back, needing more of her, just more. Harry began to get frustrated at how he was unable to touch her naked skin with the stupid dress on the wrong way. Growling, he dug his nails in causing Hayley to arch her back, her hips crashing into his arousal. She tugged at his floppy hair, mewling when he started to pepper her throat with kisses, as he slowly started bringing her closer to the sofa.

"I…I need you Harry."

"_Don't tease me Ginge_."

Hayley's eyes snapped open and she stared at the shadowy ceiling, hoping she did not hear what she thought she heard. Carefully, she tried to guide his head up and away from her heaving chest, desperate to check his eyes.

Harry chuckled and spun them around, his kisses becoming more demanding.

Maybe she just imagined it. Maybe the frustration coiling in the pit of her stomach was making her hallucinate. He was her perfect medicine because he made her forgot herself. He brought out the best in her.

"_Ginge…do not…tease me…"_

She pulled back in shock, the backs of her legs hitting the arm of the sofa. As she fell back, Hayley flung her arms, knocking the lamp to the floor. Her sudden movement brought Harry down with her, who tried to control their fall so he didn't hurt her.

"What did you say?" she asked anxiously, lying on her back upon the sofa, trying desperately to see his eyes. It was just too damn dark!

"I said, don't tempt me, Hayley," he rumbled, inching nearer to her body as he lay upon her.

Hayley sucked in her breath at hearing her name tumble over his demanding and hypnotic lips, his voice his own. Her head rolled back in ecstasy and she looked at the ceiling, praying to someone somewhere that she was doing the right thing.

Stroking her face, Harry kissed her more, wrapping his arm around the small of her back, lifting her millimetres off the sofa. Their bodies were so close it was almost too much, the heat was becoming unbearable. His free hand left her face, slowly working its way down the side of her body, stroking as he went. Settling his palm on the side of her breast, Harry used his long dextrose fingers to softly pull away the drape of her dress. Finally he was able to touch her naked skin, his ministrations eliciting small whimpering moans from his ginger doll.

"Harry…"

A slight smirk played across his lips as he kissed the column of her neck, slowly making his way down to her collarbones. Using his tongue, Harry tasted her delicate skin making Hayley arch up in response. One of her legs wrapped around the back of his own, squeezing him nearer in desperation of something…something she didn't know she needed until now. Harry slipped his hand more confidently over her bare breast, palming her gently.

"Oh…H…H…"

"Say my name Hayley," he said heatedly.

"…Harry…"

"Again."

"…Harry…"

"Louder," he insisted.

"…Harry…"

He stopped his demands to bite her lips, stealing her voice to claim her mouth once more.

"Again Hayley, say my name again," he commanded hotly.

"…Harry…"

"_My other name."_

"Ha…H… Mr Osborn?" she questioned, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"_No. You know the one I mean."_

Hayley froze, her eyes flashing open, her body rigid. Warning bells were ringing in her head and her heart rate soared, not from lust, but in fear.

He grabbed at her more harshly, annoyed that she'd stopped writhing beneath him.

Putting his mouth near to her ear he whispered, "_You know you want to say it. I'll make you say it. I'll make you scream it. Don't deny me this pleasure, Ginge..."_

This had to stop.

She couldn't play to his psychosis.

Regardless that Hayley was unable to see his eyes, she was certain that the Goblin had taken over. She had never ascertained whether or not Harry was present in his own mind when his monstrous Id emerged. He could be trapped, watching helplessly through green glazed eyes. Or, the Goblin could be fully dominant, with Harry lying dormant and unseeing. It was an aspect of his condition that she had never discovered an answer for.

Either way, Hayley's heart belonged to Harry, not the Goblin.

With his touch becoming rough and insistent, Hayley knew she'd have to act quickly to stop this escalating into something bad.

In the dark, she felt blindly on the floor for something, anything that might help her. Her demanding hands enclosed around something cold and chain like…

Using every bit of strength she had in her measly arm, Hayley flung her long forgotten evening bag up into the air by its chain, landing a firm blow against Harry's head.

"OW!" he yelped, snapping up and off of Hayley in reaction.

He clutched at the side of his head, rubbing it whilst squinting in the dark from his now kneeling position on the sofa. Then Harry looked down at Hayley who was breathing heavily.

"Are you ok, Harry?"

"You just smacked me in the head, so no!" he replied, completely flabbergasted. "What did you use? A brick?"

"My handbag actually."

"Is…Is everything ok? Are you alright?"

Hayley could practically hear the panic rising in his voice. Even in the gloom, his silhouette was hunched and deflated, his rejection almost palpable.

Shifting so that she was no longer flat on her back, Hayley reached up and placed a kind hand on his cheek. Immediately, Harry put his own over hers, grasping at her urgently. Maybe if he held onto her, then she'd stay with him.

"You…_you_ didn't do anything wrong Harry," Hayley whispered firmly, choosing her words carefully. "I've never done…you're my fir…I just need some air is all," she said finally, "Besides, important people will be missing you."

Harry nodded reluctantly, stepping off the sofa and straightening his rumpled suit; she looked a vision even with the heat rash. Her dress had shifted quite a bit, unwrapping from her body like his personal birthday present.

Alas, this was one gift that would not be opened tonight it seemed.

He turned, giving her some privacy to sort herself, while he righted the fallen lamp. Her sigh of…what was that, relief maybe? Anyway it informed him that she had finished. Ever the gentleman, Harry cautiously held out his hand to help Hayley stand, still fearing rejection from an action as simple as that.

She accepted with a smile, hoping it would soothe the deep-rooted insecurities that were beginning to surface.

"You go on without me, I need to use the restroom," he insisted as she began to pull him over to the door. "You might want to find one too, you know, for the heat rash."

She looked embarrassed but nodded at his advice. Shyly, Hayley leaned up and gave him a small tentative peck, before turning to leave and exiting the room.

Harry stood and waited, feeling anger build up inside him. He grabbed the lit lamp and threw it across the room in a fit of rage. It smashed into a million pieces, plunging the room into total darkness.

"Fuck."

* * *

**Don't hate me *****hides under bedcovers***** my Macbook died and was in repair for five days, practically had a heart attack! Also, they didn't have sex *sad face* - blame the Goblin!**

**This chap was originally much longer but it's length was too much for me to handle so I'm breaking it up, meaning the next chap will follow straight on in the story… I'm sorry, I feel so bad keeping you all waiting!**

**Anyway, I've put a playlist on my profile of music that inspires/goes with the story. These tracks may hold possible themes for previous/future chapters, or they might not, but they certainly relate to Harry and Hayley. Just a little something extra for you to enjoy in celebration of reaching Chapter 20! (I don't get anything from promoting these songs, I listen to them while I write, that is all.) **

**I love you all and I hoped you enjoyed this lengthy beast of a chapter XXX MUCH LOVE… **

**P.S. To my story request guests – I like the sound of it, definitely something I'd be interested in since I love Harley Quinn. I'd need to do a bit more research into the new 52 reboot, as getting comics in the UK sucks (take me to the US!) So I'm not saying yes and I'm not saying no – it's a firm maybe :)**


	21. Chapter 21

**Featured song**: _Touch - _Daughter

* * *

**I do not own Spider-Man, The Amazing Spider-Man movie, or anything related to the Marvel franchise. **

**This chapter was meant to be part of chap20, but I split it in two because I am evil and possibly stupid! **

* * *

Hayley rushed down the hallways trying desperately to locate a restroom. Tears were starting to fall from her eyes and all she wanted was to be alone.

Filled with panic, she felt only a small sense of relief when she spotted a door with the word "Women" in swirly gold lettering. She quickly dashed through the door and was happy to see the restroom empty.

Upon entering a toilet cubicle, Hayley fell against the wall and slid down to the floor. She brought her knees to her chest, hugging them tight. Sobs wracked her body and she whimpered as her mind flashed an image of Harry's solemn rejected face before her.

What had she done?

_I'm so stupid,_ Hayley thought, _I shouldn't have done that. _

She grabbed at her head trying to quell the memories of her hasty actions. Her hands tightened around her skull, pressing harshly into her temples, jostling her perfect updo.

"Idiot. Idiot. IDIOT!" Hayley wailed into her knees.

She had rejected him. No, rejected the Goblin, but ultimately, yes, she had rejected Harry.

It had been so long since the Goblin had emerged that Hayley had almost forgotten that he existed.

Almost.

Her psychiatrist mind viewed the Goblin as just an extreme form of psychosis, an Id excelled into existence by the spider venom Harry had injected into his body.

However, Hayley knew it was more complex than that.

The Goblin was someone she had come to know during his incarceration. He wasn't just another patient, he was an individual with a vibrant personality, so interesting and captivating. In the beginning, Hayley often forgot that underneath the green skin and erratic violence, there was actually a damaged young man buried deep inside. Extremity was normal in Ravencroft, and criminals _were_ their psychosis, they _were _that corrupt and sickeningly evil – it was in their blood. It was who they are.

Hayley had never met Harry Osborn or even noticed him before the Goblin took away Gwen, though she knew now that to be untrue.

During his treatment, she would ignore the person inside and focus on the green monster that murdered her best friend. The Goblin was not a psychosis to her. He was a person and was corrupt and evil.

But then he proclaimed that Harry was dead. That was the moment she realised that the Goblin was not just a monster, that before everything had gone to shit, he had been a person. He had been Harry Osborn.

And so over the many months the Goblin had disappeared and Harry reappeared. He became human again, no longer a crazy criminal. It was refreshing to find some normalcy within the confines of Ravencroft. Hayley had seen something in her patient that she could relate to. She had seen herself.

Now it had been so long since she'd actually seen traces of the Goblin that it had shocked her, rocked her to the core. In such a compromising position it had honestly caught her off guard. She had always imagined that _if_ the Goblin made a reappearance, then it would be when Harry was either angry or stressed. Definitely not when he experienced passion, and, erm, _other_ things.

Seeing his psychosis again was not a good sign. Her treatment of him, their therapy, his medication, _something _was flawed. It had been scary for her to witness the electric shock tortured that he endured at Ravencroft, which had made Harry temporarily disappear - she never wanted that to happen to him ever again. And it _would_ happen if she reported the Goblin's return.

Hayley tried to wipe away her tears but they never seemed to end, her fingers now covered in salty water and smudged makeup. Her heart ached in her chest as shame and guilt washed over her; he had never rejected her.

Just like she had never rejected him.

Until now.

She remembered back when the Goblin had toyed and teased her in the beginning of their relationship. His pure lust was intimidating, frightening even, but nothing short of intriguing. The darkness he possessed resonated with her, made her tremble with anticipation, feel things she had never felt…but it was only with Harry that she had actually begun to explore those feelings. The Goblin had opened the door and Harry had shown her the way through.

Hayley had thoroughly enjoyed the lust filled moments with Harry in Ravencroft, so why had she stopped when the Goblin emerged?

Because she liked it.

Hayley's heart belonged to Harry, yes, but she also loved the Goblin…

_I love them both, idiot, they're the same person_, Hayley thought, _his psychosis is part of him. _

What worried her is whether loving his psychosis was morally wrong. Her inner psychiatrist thought so. And that was why she had stopped – because she loved being with the Goblin in that moment, and that was potentially wrong and dangerous. Especially if Harry and Goblin were anything like Jekyll and Hyde; aware of each other's existence but blind of their counterpart's actions.

Hayley stomped her feet on the porcelain tiles and tried to calm her breathing. She wished everything wasn't so damn complicated!

For one moment, in _that_ passionate moment, she had forgotten who he was, who she was, who they were. However they simply weren't just an ordinary man and woman; it was far more complicated than that.

He was Harry Osborn, a young handsome billionaire, with a chip on his shoulder exacerbated further now that he was an orphan. And from the ashes of his father had risen a monstrous psychosis wrapped in deeply rooted green anger.

He was also the Goblin.

She was Hayley Carmichael, an ordinary girl with extraordinary copper hair, which seemed to burn brighter since she had become an orphan. And in the wake of her parent's fiery death, she had turned to knowledge and medicine to uncover the depths of her darkest secret.

She was also a psychiatrist, _his_ psychiatrist.

Their relationship was as complicated as it could get.

Picking herself up off the floor, Hayley decided it was time to leave. Crying in the toilet wasn't getting her anywhere and she couldn't bear to stay at the gala any moment longer. All she wanted to do was go home, splash out on buying some Ben and Jerry's ice cream, and wallow in her own shame and guilt, curled up on her couch.

Glancing at her reflection in the mirror, she almost lost her nerve, wanting to retreat back into the cubicle. Her face and chest were blotchy, ginger hair now scruffy, and she looked like a panda with her eye makeup completely smeared. And what was the purplish blotch below her ear? Hayley blushed at the hickey, though smiled slightly at the memory of Harry's breath on her neck… But one look in the mirror and reality came crashing back. She sighed and untied her hair so it was covering the small mark.

Just as she reached for some paper towels to attempt correcting her makeup, the restroom door opened.

"Fancy seeing you here, Haley!" sneered an unkind shrill voice.

Hayley's eyes narrowed as Becca, one half of the blonde bimbo nurses from Ravencroft, entered the washroom. The blonde was wearing a short black cocktail dress with a keyhole neckline that showed off her ample cleavage. Ruby red lips matched her sky-high rouge heels. The girl knew how to dress her curvy body, though the outfit seemed very inappropriate for such a formal event.

"Surprised to see me?" Becca continued, pulling out a mascara wand from her purse to redress her lashes, "Not everyone has to sleep with someone for an invite." She eyed the redhead nastily, "Though it helps."

Trying to remain calm, Hayley crumpled the now black paper towel and placed it into the sink. "Who did _you _sleep with then?"

"_I _didn't have to sleep with anyone. _I_ was invited by Doctor Scott," the blonde snapped, whipping out her Chanel blood red lipstick now that her lashes were painted black.

Becca applied the lipstick slowly and expertly onto her pouted lips, staring Hayley in the eye as she did so.

"Who did Doctor Scott have to sleep with?" Hayley said, trying to keep the tremor from her voice. What was he even doing here? She really hated that man.

"Funny. OsCorp Industries funds Ravencroft, or didn't you know? Obviously _all _the top doctors were invited. Surely your _boyfriend_ would have told you that? Or is his mind too fucked up from being electrocuted?"

Clenching her teeth, Hayley glared angrily at the troublesome blonde.

"Struck a nerve have I? Doctor Scott told me how your boyfriend begged and screamed for you," Becca purred slowly, making sure every word she said cut through like a knife. "I must admit, he is extremely fit, which is why it's so funny that he's with you. You're like the modern Beauty and the Beast, you know, if the Beast was a ginger."

That was it. Hayley had had enough. She scowled at the blonde before darting out the restroom, biting her lip and sniffing to keep the tears a bay.

"Always fun speaking with ya Haley," Becca called after the girl, smirking, before blowing a kiss at her own reflection.

* * *

Harry stalked into the en suite bathroom, treading over the shattered porcelain lamp, the pieces crumbling and breaking further beneath his leather shoes. Although the room was dark, moonlight seeped in through a curtain crack, which allowed him to successfully locate the bathroom.

Turning on the light, Harry winced at the sudden brightness. The bathroom was almost as big as his own, but he didn't care much to look at the expensive furnishing. All he could hear was his own deep and heavy breathing, which quickly became erratic as he slammed his fists angrily on the polished ceramic counter. He stood hunched over the sink, carefully resting his head against the large ornate mirror before him. Harry hissed as the bruised area of his head rested on the cool reflective glass.

In his mind, Harry played over what had transpired before and after Hayley's bag had hit him. Every word she said, every minute movement, he examined mentally. He needed something, anything, to latch onto to, to stop the devastating rejection from infecting him further.

Why had she even hit him in the first place?

"_Having trouble remembering?" _came a familiar voice.

Harry scrunched his eyes shut trying to recollect, but it was all a passionate blur.

"_Well I must say, I'd even forget my name if I had that beautiful body trembling beneath me…"_

Name…name…say my name...my other name…

Harry banged his head against the mirror as he realised what had transpired. In the heat of the moment - he hadn't even realised that the Goblin had slipped through.

"She probably thinks I'm psycho now," he growled aloud, glaring at his reflection in the large mirror.

"_She's our psychiatrist, of course she thinks you're psycho."_

"You were stupid coming out like that," snarled Harry, "Do you really have no tact at all?"

"_Don't patronise me you little shit," _his Id replied with a sneer, "_Why did I break free you ask? Because I wanted to…and she liked it – "_

"Liked it? LIKED IT? She rejected us! Rejected me! Don't pretend you didn't feel her body tense at your words. Don't pretend that she enjoyed your little appearance in the slightest! If you think any different, then you're delusional, you're blind – "

"_BLIND! No Harry, it is you who are blind," _the Goblin roared, a manic and satisfied smirk appearing on Harry's lips. "_You think you have control over me? I am a part of you Harry. You can't get rid of me. We are one and the same; I will always be here no matter how hard you try to dwindle my existence. I am you Harry and don't you forget that!" _

Angrily, Harry raised his balled up fist and brought it down heavily beside his head. Immediately little cracks in the mirror trickled out from beneath his hand along with tiny beads of blood. Removing his face from the fractured mirror, he stared disbelievingly at what he had done.

There was a slight pain emanating from his fist and Harry blinked at the small offending shard peeking out of the flesh on his middle finger. Luckily it wasn't deep. He hadn't meant to hit the mirror that hard. Maybe he was subconsciously trying to silence the Goblin.

"_You can't get rid of me that easily," _his Id laughed._ "Besides, you fail to recall that it was I who sparked her desire in Ravencroft. You were lost then. There was nothing of you left. It was I who captured her heart, not you. Me. You should be grateful that a girl like Ginge even looks at you, you little brat." _

Harry glowered at his reflection. The cracked glass altered his likeness causing a double image of his frowning face to be reflected back at him. Even the mirror knew what lay beneath, that what everyone saw was a lie, that the Goblin hadn't disappeared like everyone thought.

It was almost ironic really.

"Regardless," Harry continued breathing steadily, trying to ignore the two sets of his blue (with quickly fading green) eyes reflected back at him, "Hayley thinks, no, _thought_ we were well. We _have_ to appear well to remain free from incarceration. How will Project Sinister continue if we get locked up again?"

There was a pause.

"_Good point."_

There was another pause.

"_She liked it."_

"She didn't."

"_You can't keep me locked up forever Harry."_

"Watch me."

* * *

It was starting to get frosty outside, the sky almost thunderous with grey clouds decorating its inky darkness. Although the sky was black, New York was never truly dark, not with the network of ever-sparkling lights glistening from every building. True darkness belonged to the back alleys and deserted parks, not because of the absence of light, but because of the criminals that inhabited them.

Working with the most terrifying of criminals everyday had almost dulled Hayley's sense of danger. She was never afraid.

Apart from that night. The night the Goblin was born and Gwen had died.

She remembered when Electro plunged Manhattan into total darkness, and having to walk back, alone, from being stood up by Gwen. That was the only time she had ever been truly afraid.

Discounting that past moment, that was the reason why she felt happy to leave the gala alone – nothing outside scared her anymore.

Hayley nodded kindly to the doorman who gave her a concerned look. She walked to the curb and stuck out her thumb, waiting patiently for a fee cab to drive to her aid. She caught her reflection in the passing car windows; a shivering pale ghost with black eyes stared back at her. Her dress really didn't keep out the biting cold. The emeralds that hung from her neck felt like iced droplets touching her skin.

Finally a cab pulled up next to her and Hayley gratefully opened the door, happily sliding inside.

"Rough night?" called out the cab driver.

"Yeah, you could say - Hey!" Hayley shrieked as a strong arm prevented her from closing the car door. She quickly moved across the back seat as a tall boy glided in next to her.

"Long time no see," Peter Parker said simply, slamming the door closed after him.

"Hey mate! What you think you're doing?" yelled the cabby, twisting round in his seat to glare at Peter. "Is he hassling you miss?"

"No," said Hayley carefully, "Not yet anyway. Erm, if you could take us to the Bowery area, that would be great."

The driver nodded and turned back around, placing his hands back on the wheel. Then the car moved away from The Waldorf-Astoria and into a stream of heavy traffic.

Hayley sat next to Peter, unsure of what to say. They last saw each other nearly two months ago in court and that hadn't ended well.

"Saw you with Harry earlier."

She risked a sideways glance at her old friend; he looked almost as tired as she did. There were bags under his eyes and he appeared much paler than usual. Maybe it was because of the chill but Peter's face appeared distant, almost stone like. His tone was thick with distain and had a hard edge. And was that alcohol she smelled?

"He looks happy," he muttered dryly, "You both look very happy together. It must be nice to be happy, to find someone you love…I'm _very _happy for you both."

"We are not together if that's what you're thinking."

"Really?" Peter questioned turning to the redhead, "Because it certainly didn't look like it, you know. I wouldn't want to be seen kissing a criminal!"

"He's not a criminal Peter, he was proven innocent," Hayley replied crossing her arms defensively. She really didn't like where this conversation was headed.

"No. No, no, no, no, no! You see, if he _were_ innocent, then he wouldn't have gone to Ravencroft! How can you not see that?"

Peter began to move around in his seat, his hands flying around animatedly, his finger pointing at Hayley accusingly.

"He was framed Peter! Spider-Man _framed _him – "

"No! Regardless of what the court said, I know, I_ know, _that's not what happened!"

"How? How do you know that Peter?" she implored, wishing that she could find sense in his frenzied words.

"Because I know…I know because…argh, I just know, Hayley, I can't explain it!" he practically yelled, slamming his hand against the back of the front seat.

"HEY! Settle down back there or I'll kick you out!" shouted the cabby.

"Well, try, try to explain," Hayley said quietly, her voice full of exasperation. When Peter fell silent under her questioning gaze she shook her head at his stubbornness. "He's your friend Peter. Why can't you be happy for him? Why can't you support him? I just don't understand!"

"He betrayed me," Peter mumbled, a faint trace of a pain in his words. "He's not my friend anymore,"

"I know, but why? Why, Peter? I just don't understand."

"There is a lot that you don't understand! He took my hope away! He took Gwen away!"

"Peter, you need to deal with your grief constructively and blame the true killer - "

"Don't you be a…a shrink! Don't you shrink me! Harry is guilty!"

"No. Spider-Man is!" she tried to explain calmly; though it was taking everything she had not to match the angry vigour in his voice.

"It wasn't him, it wasn't! He didn't do it, he didn't! He tried, oh god, Gwen, I tried…" Peter rambled, getting caught up in the pure pain of trying to attest his alter ego's innocence. "He's the monster Hayley. Harry is a monster!"

"No. _You_ are the monster Peter. And I've had enough!"

Reaching for the car door on her right, Hayley released the door handle.

"Hey! Hey, Hayley, what are you doing? Carmichael? Stop! No, STOP!"

* * *

Hayley quickened her steps as she ran down the deserted streets, hearing the clack of her heels pounding on the littered asphalt. She turned at a yell of her name resonating loudly in the silence of 4am. Her ankle twisted as she slipped on the wet curb, the pitter-patter of rain quickly drenching her hair and skin. The pain was only minimal but it stopped her enough to realise that she was lost.

They hadn't quite reached the Bowery area when Hayley had leaped out of the semi-stationary cab. All she wanted was to get away from Peter and his nasty words. She hadn't noticed how far from home she really was.

Her name could be heard again; Peter must be chasing after her.

Hayley started to run again not caring where she was going.

She ran for what felt like an age, pushing herself further and further.

The adrenaline was kicking in, enabling her to ignore the now nagging ache of her swollen ankle, though it wasn't help much with her speed. She was never one for track and it was starting to show. Her breathing was thick and accelerated; her dainty but firm strides were loosing their initial quickness.

At the sound of heavy footsteps gradually gaining on her, Hayley dashed down a dark alley in an attempt to escape. She crashed into a fallen trashcan and landed with a thud on the damp and smelly ground. Blood oozed from a scrape on her chin and she looked straight ahead towards the light at the end of the alley. Her eyes were a bit dazed from the fall but her hearing remained strong – the footsteps were almost upon her.

Hayley blinked rapidly and saw a streetlight illuminating a corner shop, the one where she bought her groceries, across the street from her. A small sigh of relief escaped her mouth as she started to pick herself up from the ground. Her legs were shaky and her dress was ripped but otherwise she wasn't too bad.

The footsteps had come to a stop behind her.

"Peter, I really, _really,_ don't want – "

In a flash, her body was pressed against the harsh backstreet wall, a gleaming knife digging into her throat.

"Don't you fucking scream or I'll kill you."

* * *

Harry tried to remain calm as he stood in one of the many offices inside the New York City Police Department.

After Hayley had left him at the gala, he had returned to the party and mingled for just over an hour before he had been alerted. A hotel attendant had brought him to the foyer where he spoke briefly with a police officer who had then escorted him to the station. The ride had been relatively short and silent; the only information he learnt was that Hayley needed him.

"Mr Osborn? Mr Osborn, I know you're probably in shock, but Miss Carmichael is fine, just minimal cuts and bruises," reassured Captain Sims.

The high-ranking officer had previously worked directly beneath George Stacy, Gwen's father, and had been appointed this new role shortly after the late Captain's death.

Loosening his tie, Harry stopped pacing, finally having heard Captain Sims' words. "_Minimal _cuts and bruises? What the hell happened?" he spoke steadily, but underneath the Goblin was demanding to see their girl unharmed for themselves.

"She hasn't said much. Only that she was mugged near her home in the Bowery - "

"Mugged?"

"Yes," Sims continued gravely. "From what I understand she was wearing an emerald necklace at the time, Cartier I believe. And earrings also. The mugger, who she describes to be tall and of Russian decent, held her at knife point and stole the jewels."

Harry began to pace again and ran his shaking hands through his damp hair. It was his entire fault. If she hadn't been wearing the necklace…but why had she left? Was it because of him? The Goblin? What?

"It appears she was being chased, though she denies it."

Harry quirked an eyebrow. "Chased?"

"Yes. Her ankle is sprained and swollen, and her feet are a bloody wreck. One of our patrol cars reported seeing a woman matching her description leaving a cab in Midtown. It appears she ran from there to near her home where the incident took place."

Midtown! That was miles from her apartment!

A door to his right opened and a female officer walked towards him and Captain Sims.

"She's ready to see you now," the officer smiled grimly, "She's a bit shell shocked. I'm sure your girlfriend will be happy to see you Mr Osborn."

Harry felt his heart glow at such a comment, but then the moment soured as he thought of something dreadful.

"Did…did she say…he didn't…" He could barely form the words, because if he said it out loud he was certain it would be true.

"She shows no sign of sexual assault," Captain Sims sighed grimly, "The bastard only wanted the necklace and earrings, thankfully. The small cuts you'll see on her hands and cheek are from where she tried to stop him taking them."

"_We need to find this son of a bitch, Harry! When we find him, I'm going to fucking make him BLEED for what he's done!"_

"She fought back?!" Harry asked, completely bewildered by her actions. He shook his head slightly, trying to silence the Goblin screaming in his ear.

"Yes. It could have ended a lot worse for her. We've had a medic treat her injuries. You can take her home, though we'll want to question her more on Tuesday. We thought two days rest would do her some good."

"Thank you for your help Captain."

Harry loosened his tie some more and undid the top button of his shirt. He walked the short distance from the office into the holding room and closed the door behind him. The sight of Hayley, his beautiful ginger doll, looking so broken before him was completely heart breaking.

She was sat on a cold metal chair, hunched over, with bandages covering her feet and hands. Her warm auburn hair appeared brassy and dull under the harsh strobe lights; strands were sticking together sporadically like a crows nest. He could see a large blood stained dressing covering her pale cheek; the rest of her face was blotchy and black from the crying and ruined makeup. Her dress was tattered and muddy as were her shoes. She even had her purse, which was remarkable given that she had just been mugged.

The Captain had been right; the criminal had only wanted the jewels.

He stopped walking when he was directly in front of her, crouching so that he might be able to catch her eye to announce his presence. The vibrancy of her green eyes was gone, with only the cold and glassy lifelessness akin to a marble left. Harry was too scared to say anything, too scared to touch her, too scared to do anything in case she broke more.

"What did you say?" he whispered gently. Her lips had moved but he heard no sound.

"I'm sorry," she breathed so quietly that Harry barely caught it.

He reached for her uninjured cheek, and he felt able to breathing again when she moved into his hand. "You don't need to be sorry, not to me, not for this," Harry murmured honestly.

"But I lost the necklace, the earrings. I wasn't strong enough to stop – "

"I don't care about that. All I care about is you, that you're safe Hayley."

"They must have been so…so expensive," she wailed slightly, her warm tears dampening his hand. "Didn't they cost like fifty million dollars?"

"Not quite that much," he said warmly. Harry would have smiled at her naivety if not for the current situation. "That's why you have insurance on these things – but there is no insurance on your life, Hayley. Your life is precious. It's precious to me. You shouldn't have fought for something as worthless as that necklace."

"But…but you bought it for me – "

"Never, put yourself in danger like that again. Do you understand?"

Hayley finally made eye contact with him and nodded in response, her green orbs hauntingly sorrowful.

He stroked her cheek and wiped away a few stray tears. "Why did you leave? Was it because… did…did I do something wrong?" he questioned, almost afraid to know the real answer.

"No!" Hayley said so strongly that she made a grab for his hand, but winced at the sudden movement disturbing her injuries. "I ran into Becca in the bathroom. Apparently Doctor Scott brought her. She was just so horrid, and I couldn't breathe, I needed to leave, I just couldn't…it was horrible, I can still feel the knife, I-I-I can feel it…"

"_Right! That blonde bitch is dead! Scott's dead for bringing her! And this fucking mugger bastard is dead!" _the Goblinthreatened in Harry's head. "_You know what? Why don't you just let me loose and I'll go on a killing spree! Everyone in this city shall burn!"_

"Shhh, doll, I'm here, they can't hurt you now."

"Yes, you_ are_ here?" Hayley questioned slowly, her mind whirring back into life. "Harry, you shouldn't be here! Wasn't your house arrest lifted solely for the gala? You'll get into trouble!" she rambled in panic.

"Calm down, it's fine. The police brought me here and they'll take us home. It's all legit and legal."

Hayley nodded and leant forward so that her forehead rested against Harry's. "Can we go home now?" she whispered, the exhaustion from tonight evident in her voice.

Smiling brightly, Harry reluctantly stood, offering her his hand to help her stand. She took it gingerly, her bandaged fingers and knuckles making it hard for her to grip his hand. Next, Hayley slid forward in her chair and delicately tried to stand, but stopped, hissing in pain. It seemed her injured feet and ankle didn't enjoy the sudden pressure of her body weight.

Walking was going to be impossible.

Harry swiftly placed his arm around her back and picked her up bridal style. He smirked with happiness as she quickly wrapped her arms around his neck, subconsciously stroking the hair at the base of his head.

"Home it is."

* * *

She had been in there for a long time. Too long for Harry's liking.

Understandably Hayley had wanted to shower when they arrived back at Osborn Manor and he agreed, though semi-reluctantly. Of course she need to clean up but he didn't like the idea of her leaving his sight. Look what happened when she did! He knew that no place was safer than his home, but it didn't stop him from worrying.

He listened intently from where he was sitting on his usual grey sofa. It was quiet. The shower had stopped running twenty minutes ago and she had yet to reappear, so Harry went to investigate.

When he entered his bedroom the first thing he saw was Hayley sitting on the floor, back to the wall, knees curled to her chest, her dress covering her damp body. All her bandages had been removed causing her flesh to look horribly marred by the myriad of bruises and cuts. Little beads of water were running down her face and shoulders where her auburn hair was still wet from the shower. What he noticed most of all was that her dress was being worn correctly; her back was exposed against the wooden wall.

"Hayley?" he called softly, approaching her slowly. She lifted her sore head to regard him giving a small smile when he stroked the top of her head. "Can I get you anything?"

"A shirt would be nice," Hayley said flatly, though her smile never waned.

Harry nodding, understanding her need to cover herself, though he wished she wouldn't. It made him feel sad and a little annoyed to know that she couldn't, no, wouldn't let him in. He wanted to know her and that meant _all_ of her, just like she knew all of him.

He went and plucked one of his crisp white Ralph Lauren shirts from his personal wardrobe, before turning and frowning at her now that she was standing, back flush against the wall still.

"You don't need to hide yourself from me Hayley."

She stuck out her hand, "Harry, the shirt please."

"You don't have to be afraid."

"Just give me the shirt, Harry, I've been through enough tonight. Please."

Harry moved towards her holding the shirt out to her, before snatching it back as she reached out for it.

"This is not a game, Harry. I'm begging you, please give it to me."

"If you show me, I'll give you the shirt," he said slowly. When he tried to reach for her hand in comfort, she smacked her hand against the wall, mimicking his previous actions. "Hayley, please show me! I need you. I need you with me, I need you to trust – "

"Just, DON'T!" Hayley shrieked hysterically. The shocked and disappointed look he gave caused her head to hang in shame, though she held out her hand again hopefully.

Defeatedly, he finally placed the shirt into her trembling and pleading hand.

"Turn around," she requested quietly, but another glance at Harry's unimpressed face and she became frenzied again. "PLEASE! Please Harry," she begged.

When he eventually turned, Hayley moved away from the wall, shrugging on the formal shirt, letting out a sigh of relief now that she was fully covered. The expensive cotton felt soft on her back, a stark contrast to the gritty wall from the alley. The memory made her shiver. However, when she lifted her head, it was Harry's deflated silhouette that had her feeling guilty again.

"I'm sorry," she murmured into his back as she wound her arms around him, her embrace another apology.

"Hey, it's ok, I guess. I was just overcomplicating things," he muttered a little harshly.

Maybe he had been pushing his luck making her wear a revealing backless dress. All Harry had wanted was to show that he didn't care about her scars, that he thought she was beautiful regardless.

"No one can see them. They're hideous."

Harry turned in her arms and cupped her face, "Shhh. Don't say that. They felt beautiful to me."

She tried to back away again, her face stricken at the not so nice memory of when he touched her scars previously in Ravencroft. "That's because you haven't seen them! And you never will!"

"You've seen me at my worst," Harry yelled, suddenly very angry, grabbing her arms and shaking her. "You've witnessed my absolute destruction! And now you refuse to show me yours? How is that fair, how is it any different? I trusted you when I was lost, why can't you do the same thing?" He breathed heavily through his nostrils, trying to calm himself. "All I want is for you to trust me. That's all I ask."

He was right. It wasn't fair. And she knew it.

Hayley could see that behind the anger was a scared little boy fearing rejection, yet again. She couldn't do that to him, not again. The fear of repeating her earlier mistake at the gala strengthened her resolve. So she stared into his questioning eyes and quelled the fear in her own. Her body relaxed in his tight grasp and she nodded, holding her breath.

Slowly, Harry pushed his white shirt gradually off her dainty shoulders and down to the crook of her elbows. Still keeping eye contact, he stroked the soft skin of her arms, working up to her neck and holding her face in his hands again.

He kissed her trembling lips firmly. "Trust me," Harry said simply.

Hayley nodded quickly, bracing herself.

Sweeping his warm hands back down to her shoulders, Harry pushed with a tender yet firm hand so that Hayley turned, finally exposing her bare back to him.

It was a stunning but haunting sight.

At the base of her back were the glass like scars that he had felt previously, the final tips of the large scarring that covered her entire back. It decorated the majority of her shoulders, dissipating towards her bottom. While her usual skin was milky porcelain, the scars were alabaster white with pink shades where the flesh was stretched tight. The original burns had missed her spine, though there were a few scabs along the vertebrae where bone pushed against the delicate and thin skin. The overall effect could be likened to a pair of translucent glass wings draping down her small frame.

Harry thought it made her more striking and intriguing than before. She wasn't green and monstrous like him; she was nothing short of an angel.

He was speechless.

Deciding to show her how he felt, he pulled Hayley, who had been inching away from him, back against his chest. He kissed the top of her head and slackened his hold slightly. Lowering his head, Harry breathed softly over her flawed shoulders, before connecting her cool skin with his hot lips. She squeaked out of surprise rather than protest, and her own breathing hitched at the continuous and marvellous assault of kisses that his lips brought.

Hayley just wanted to feel alive again, to feel normal, to feel something other than the sadness and devastation that her scars carried. His mouth stole her away from everything; his touch reminded her of the lust she had felt, his kiss transcended her to that dark room with only a lamp for light…

She had to put things right.

Gradually she turned back to face him, annoyed with herself for ceasing his unbinding touch, but she had to. "Do you want to know the craziest thing?" Hayley whispered, a sudden blush appearing on her face, "I'm sad that we never got to dance at the gala."

Harry quirked his eyebrow but smirked when she squeaked again as his arms snaked around her waist. Her hands went automatically to his neck, and the two of them swayed slightly to a tune all of their own.

"Harry, what, what happens when the Goblin takes over?" she asked, her green eyes wide with uncertainty - she really didn't want to spoil the moment.

"Why?" he replied offhandedly, his voice not betraying the curiosity he felt at why he was being asked this very specific question.

"Because… Are you in there? Do you see and hear everything around you?"

"Yes."

"I'm sorry," Hayley sighed, the guilt of her actions quickly returning, "I'm sorry for what happened in the hotel room."

"Oh."

One look at his ashen face told Hayley that he'd misunderstood. "No! Not what happened between us, I could never be sorry about that," she reassured quickly. "It was wrong of me to leave you like I did…I got…I felt…Can I talk to him? To the Goblin?"

"No," Harry said firmly, his blue eyes serious and almost cold like. "I lost control. It won't happen again."

Hayley leaned her head against his shoulder and waited a few minutes for his breathing and heartbeat to calm – she had obviously struck a nerve.

"I want you to know that I won't reject you again. Or him. He is a part of you…and…I…I love you…all of you."

She had never been enough, not enough of a person, but maybe, just maybe, she could be enough for him.

Harry brought up his hand to her hair and rubbed his knuckles over her ginger strands. "I love you too, Hayley. But I won't loose control again."

"_Oh yes you will," _whispered the Goblin for only Harry to hear._ "Control can go both ways, Harry - you are nothing without me. Project Sinister is nothing without me." _

* * *

**THEY SAID THE L WORD! Also, Peter needs to sort his life out!**

**Sorry I've been M.I.A, my Internet broke for ten days and then I had writer's block half way through this chap…but then I had a wonderful dream about Dane, so yay, inspiration came back :D **

**Anyway, my apologies to you my wonderful readers, and also to my reviewers who I haven't responded to yet! As soon as I wake up tomorrow (UK time), I'll be writing to you all…please don't hate me.**

**But seriously, you guys are amazing, I love you all, you are the best readers ever! Much Love XX **

**P.S. I updated the story cover image, hope you like!**

**Also, I don't know if it's the same elsewhere, but in the UK, people tease redheads… Why? God knows. So that's why Becca was nasty about Hayley's hair – what a bitch! **


	22. Chapter 22

**Featured song**: _Black and Blue – _Carlie de Boer

* * *

**I do not own Spider-Man, The Amazing Spider-Man 2 movie, TASM2 game or anything related to the Marvel franchise…which is really sad because I'd totally get everyone free merch :D**

**Also, I don't own Starbucks or get anything for mentioning the company and their drinks in my story – I'm just addicted Starbs!**

**Plus, some dialogue has been taken from the video game but I have used it in a different context – I own nothing!**

* * *

They had gone to sleep around six in the morning.

Overtaken with exhaustion, Hayley began to fall asleep whilst they were dancing together, her eyes drooping and breathing calm as he held her in his arms. Harry was surprised she'd lasted this long, that her fatigue had not come sooner.

It was lucky they were still in his room for it allowed him to gently lead her over to his bed, which she gladly laid upon. She appeared even smaller curled up on the edge of his bed, the size of it consuming her tiny form beneath the covers. If it weren't for a shock of auburn hair peaking out the top of the black bedcovers, she would be hidden to all who saw her sleep.

Harry watched her rest as he extinguished all the lights in his room, gradually removing his belt, shoes and tie as he went. Lastly, he unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt before lying next to her on top of the covers. All he wanted was to pull Hayley into his arms and kiss every inch of her. She was perfect to him; even bruised and damaged, her fragility was alluring and attractive. It felt intoxicating to know that he owned her heart and her love.

She had told him that she loved him.

It was a strange and foreign concept. Never in his life had anyone told him those words. Maybe his mother had before she died, but Norman certainly hadn't. When he was younger all he had wanted was his father's approval, a shred of something to prove that the old man did love him. But that never came. The only love he had known was money. Yet Hayley wasn't spoiled by the love of money, by the greed of wealth – she only wanted him. All of him.

No one had ever given a damn about Harry and therefore he had never cared about anyone in return. However, that was different now.

It was an odd feeling, this love business. It was a sentiment that made him feel very powerful, and he revelled in it.

He tried to sleep, he really did, but instead he lay with his eyes open wide in the dim room, unable to relax with the multitude of thoughts racing through his mind. The thought that two mysterious men had hurt his girl tonight did not sit well with him.

Turning his head, he glared at the pillbox on his nightstand. The box had the days of the week printed on each little lid. None of the lids had been opened and none of the tablets had been taken. He'd have to hide it soon otherwise Hayley would discover he hadn't been taking his pills, and he couldn't have that – she needed to believe the façade. The only drawback of quitting his medication cold turkey was that his hands had begun to shake again and they were always worse at night. At least the darkness would conceal his secret, for now.

Eventually after ten minutes of inability to rest, Harry pulled out his cell phone, the one that those Armour or Shield agents didn't know about. He sent a text to one of the numbers in the address book. It contained a single word, a code word; "Dexter."

Hayley stirred next to him, the light from the phone disturbing the serene gloom of the morning. He quickly stuffed the offending object into the pocket of his suit trousers and slowly rolled off the bed, his movements silent and precise. Quietly, he walked round to where she lay and softly touched her beautiful hair and the cool skin of her neck. It was strange seeing her in his bed. Even stranger still that he thought she looked perfect there, like she belonged.

He quickly left, closing the door behind him, making his way into the lounge before he disturbed her slumber. All the while he shook his head in disbelief at how right being in love felt. For a short period, he sat on the grey sofa in silence, his head in his twitching hands, the light of dawn casting strange shadows through the tall windows and blue organza curtains. His mind focused in on the mysterious mugger while he waited.

He didn't have to wait long.

"Come out Kraven," he said quietly, not even turning to greet the man who stood concealed by the tall pillar behind him.

Harry knew he was there even though he couldn't see him.

"Your senses are sharpening rapidly, you have retained some of your evolved abilities," came a gruff voice with a distinctive Russian lilt.

Although harsh, the man's voice had an elegance and air of superiority to it that only belonged to someone who was self-assured and confident.

"Yes. It appears so."

"But you did not call me here to discuss your returning powers, I fear," replied the man, stalking into Harry's eye line as he went to stand over by the window.

Neither man had met before, previously only having contact via telephone or through Fiers, though Kraven had observed the young Osborn many times since his release. Any good hunter would watch their prey before deciding whether to go in for the kill. However Harry was no prey, he was a powerful ally, a worthy and strong apex predator like himself. They both wanted to same goal - to eliminate Spider-Man.

Harry regarded the Russian coolly from the sofa; the man certainly lived up to his name, looking every bit a hunter one possibly could.

Sergei Kravinoff, better known as Kraven the Hunter, was an intimidating man.

He was tall and well built, his defined chest muscles glistening in the morning sun, though two large white scars disrupted their perfection. Another scar ran from his forehead, over his right eye and down to his cheek, giving the hunter a rugged and dangerous presence. A thick brown beard, moustache and sideburns surrounded his youthful face, with the hair on his head matching in colour and density. Although he appeared to be in his late thirties, Kraven was actually over seventy years old. He regularly ingested a potion made from jungle herbs that he learnt from Shamans during his time tracking jaguars in the Brazilian jungle. The potion granted him a number of superhuman abilities, though the effects had dramatically altered his appearance over the years, slowing the aging process.

Kraven was wearing camouflage cargo trousers with an ivory handled hunting knife sheathed on his belt. The man also wore other hunting trophies; around his neck were leather ribbon necklaces with a variety of white teeth and claws from animals he had undoubtedly killed. A large sandy coloured fur gilet cover his back and shoulders - the garment had been crafted from a lion pelt, the animal's majestic mane surrounding Kraven like a king's crown. Descendent from Russian nobility, his charismatic nature stemmed from his intent to prove himself worthy of such an ancestry - he was not born with a silver spoon in his mouth like Harry.

This man was a killer, and Harry couldn't help but smile gleefully at this particular member of Project Sinister.

"We have a situation regarding a mugging. You need to keep your men in check," Harry said seriously, his face portraying an unnatural stony hardness that had only been seen in the depths of Ravencroft.

"What makes you think he's one of mine?"

"She mentioned he was Russian."

"And you automatically think he is connected to me? You offend Mr Osborn," Kraven chuckled, folding his arms across his burly chest. "I have my own code; I'd never pick on prey so weak, only those who prove worthy opponent. But, the same cannot be said for those thugs Sytsevich uses. We may be of mother Russia, but I am no friend to that beast!"

"Do I sense dissention in the ranks?"

"I work with him only at your request. Make no mistake, that brute and I are not the same. I am top predator! And he? Such bumbling buffoon! He brings a bad name to strong animal."

"Indeed, he is rather ungraceful," agreed Harry, remembering seeing the high-tech battle armour on the news and thinking how clunky it was in the field. "But we need him, and I do enjoying the chaos and challenge he brings to Spider-Man," he growled with a smirk.

"He is challenge only in size. Make no mistake; the spider will beat the rhino," Kraven advised, years of survival and predatory observation leading him to his conclusion.

Plus, the hunter had a dislike of automatic weapons. They required no skill to use, which was why he had refused every OsCorp weapon offered other than a huge multiuse crossbow.

"That may be, though I'm sure he has his uses even to you Kraven. Imagine having to command such lowly adversaries as the Russian mob and gangs." Harry knew Kraven preferred to leave the politics and gang organisation to Sytsevich – the man was a lone wolf.

"His destructive rampage does give me opportunity to study the spider's weaknesses."

"Always a silver lining my friend. Do a recon of the Bowery, check to see whose area that is and let me know," Harry ordered.

"Of course." Kraven mulled over the situation in his mind trying to understand his fellow predator's intentions. "Strange for lion to protect a lamb."

"She has her uses," Harry replied nonchalantly, preferring to keep business and pleasure separate, though it was becoming clear that that might prove impossible in time.

"Strange for a lamb to lie with lion…unless the lamb thinks lion is domestic cat?" Kraven observed the young billionaire who rolled his eyes at the statement. "Your secrecy intrigues me, Mr Osborn."

"She may not know the whole truth of my current state but she knows enough. It's too dangerous for her to know everything!" Harry snapped, jumping up from where he sat – he didn't need to justify his actions. "_Regardless of her involvement, I am still the Goblin! I will not turn back into that whiny trust fund baby! I am strong! I am superior to Spider-Man!"_

Kraven stared at the young man's power hungry green eyes, the pale morning sun causing his wide seething smirk to glint like a lit jack-o-lantern. "You will be strong enough to defeat the spider," the hunter remarked steadily, not rising to meet the younger man's venom. "I will make sure of that. I can make you what you were meant to be. I can make you true hunter."

Glaring at the stoic tracker, Harry flipped his fringe off his face, which no longer appeared mad and crazed. He spread his arms wide, now calm and serene, "That's all I ask."

"And what of my payment? What news of this lizard, ah, Connors?"

Harry sat back down on the sofa. _"Hmmm?_ Yes, he's being moved back to Ravencroft at my suggestion – "

"Hush!" Kraven signalled sharply, staring at the closed bedroom door, "Hush, the lamb approaches."

With the stealth and prowess of a tiger, the Russian quickly made his way into the shadows.

The doorknob rattled as it turned slowly.

* * *

Hayley was uncertain what had woken her, only that now she was awake, all the memories from the last twenty-four hours hit her like a tonne of bricks.

Even if her remaining sleepiness allowed her to move, she couldn't because of the pain and soreness emanating from practically everywhere on her body. No, moving would be stupid. Moving would mean that all the terrible events that felt almost surreal had actually happened. She wanted to stay in her protective ball underneath the covers, hugging her pillow for comfort. Blatant denial would keep her safe. Blocking out everything that made her want to scream and hide would keep her safe. Forgetting the gala and the events that followed would keep her safe.

Yesterday never happened.

And yet it did.

All of it had happened and there was nothing she could do to change it. She had tried to fight, tried to stop the mugger, but in reality, she was powerless. She hated being so weak.

Yesterday had happened.

She yawned and carefully stretched her body, wincing at how much it hurt to do so. For a brief moment she had elapsed to remember that she was at Osborn Manor, curled up in a bed that wasn't her own. She was in Harry's bed.

Heart fluttering nervously, Hayley peaked out from her cocoon of covers, unsure whether or not she had company next to her. She frowned and sat up upon seeing that Harry wasn't lying next to her. In fact, he wasn't even in the room!

Maybe that was a good thing. Hayley had absolutely no idea how she was meant to act around him now that she had confessed her love. The feeling was mutual because he had said it back… but would it change things between them? What would it mean for her continuing to treat his condition?

She groaned and flopped her banging head back onto the soft pillow. It was too early to sort through these life-changing thoughts. As she lay in silence, Hayley was certain that she could hear muffled voices from behind the bedroom door. It was almost soothing, lulling her back into that dozy place between waking and sleeping.

Hayley quickly tumbled off the bed, forcing herself to go investigate before sleep overtook her once more – she didn't want to be alone anymore.

* * *

"Harry? Who…who are you talking to?" came Hayley's small voice as his bedroom door opened.

She was beautiful even partially under the influence of sleep, her wild hair glowing like a golden halo when it caught the sun's rays. Whilst she shaded the sudden glaring light from her eyes, the brightness exposed the bloodied cut on her cheek.

At some point after he'd left her she must have removed her black dress, for she was only wearing his white shirt. It was almost fortunate that she had such a tiny frame because the buttoned shirt came down to her knees, covering anything to revealing – she wasn't to know that they weren't alone. Harry drank in her drowsy state, wanting nothing more than to run his hands all over her and rip off the shirt that drowned her.

When his eyes lowered to her legs his heart almost stopped. Her knobbly knees were decorated with angry black and purple bruises, their hue almost blue from the light shimmering through the cerulean curtains. Her porcelain skin was ruined with grazed and shredded areas from when she was attacked. The long black dress had hidden the true extent of her injuries, and they were even more shocking the morning light. Harry was also slightly concerned at how scrawny her legs were. No wonder everything looked baggy on her.

"Did I wake you?" he asked softly.

"Mmmm, _yawn_, maybe. I can't remember. What time is it?" she asked rubbing her tired eyes, which still had a faint trace of smudged makeup around them.

"A little after seven."

"Who are you talking to at seven in the morning?" Hayley mumbled incredulously, leaning against the doorway to support her tired legs – she really wasn't a morning person.

"I was on the phone. OsCorp business," Harry lied eloquently.

"Hmm? On a Sunday? OsCorp needs to leave you alone on the weekends. Can't be good, _yawn,_ good for your stress levels."

"You look tired doll. Go back to sleep, I'll join you in a minute."

Harry felt a sense of pride and ownership as a blush appeared on her chest at the realisation that they had shared his bed earlier. She gazed at him through half-lidded weary eyes, her thick eyelashes fluttering, unknowingly giving him that come hither look that all girls possessed. If Kraven weren't lurking the shadows, he would have grabbed her and kissed her senseless on the sofa. The other thing that dampened his sexual frustration was his intense anger for the man who had given Hayley those awful bruises and cuts.

When the bedroom door was shut tightly and she had gone, Harry turned to stare at the spot where he knew the hunter was hiding,

"Such damage on such a delicate flower – only human beings are that wilfully cruel," Kraven commented woefully, choosing to stay in the shadows. "True hunters wish to conserve the natural world and its innocent beauty, I can see why you wish to protect her."

"Find him."

"Criminals are not unlike beasts; they have hunting grounds, specific behaviours…I will locate this dishonourable animal."

"Good. See that you do."

The wooden floor never made a sound as Kraven stalked towards the door to leave. The only sound betraying his presence came from when he opened the squeaky door that led out into the corridor and towards the window from which he entered earlier.

"And Kraven," Harry called out quietly to the hunter, "When you do find him, notify me immediately. I want him to know my rage. Personally."

* * *

She had fallen asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

Luckily her long nap didn't bring any bad dreams, so when she did wake around 10am, she was well rested and ready for whatever the day might bring. To her surprise and disappointment, she was still alone in Harry's bedroom. However, he must have returned from the rest of the penthouse because the curtains were now drawn letting in the warm sun. The large wardrobe was also open, along with a couple of draws on the dresser.

_He must already be dressed and in the sitting room, _Hayley thought, _and here I am practically half naked in his bed!_

There seemed like no better time than now to get up and start the day anew. Hayley looked around at her dirty and crumpled dress on the wooden floor, which she couldn't remember even taking off. She was beginning to panic, thinking that she had no clothes to wear, until she had a brain wave – her clothes from yesterday were still in the adjoining room where she got dressed for the gala. Sure, wearing yesterday's clothes again wasn't ideal but that was her only choice.

She stepped gingerly off the large bed, the muscles in her feet throbbing, her legs cramping in resistance to her sudden movement. There was nothing she could really do except shuffle towards the bathroom, ignoring her bodily pain. Staying in bed was not an option even though that sounded like heaven to her. All she wanted was to put on some familiar clothes, her own clothes. It's not that she wasn't grateful for Harry's shirt, but it really was too minimal and light to wear all day. Plus she felt really exposed with nothing on her legs. She needed trousers. Yes, trousers were a must, and her favourite black skinnies were calling her from the other room.

With her mission for clothes at the forefront of her mind, Hayley didn't register that someone was using the bathroom until she'd already entered and closed the door behind her. Apparently the thick mahogany doors were sound proof against the hum of the shower.

"Shit! Er…I…erm…sorry! I was just…my clothes are…I didn't hear…I'll just…I'll just go now!" Hayley half stammered half yelled over the loud gushing of the shower.

She hurriedly covered her eyes with her hand and quickly spun round to exit they way she came. Her legs resisted her and she slipped on the damp floor landing on her bum.

The shower turned off.

"Ah, are you ok?"

"Yes! Yes, I'm fine!" she called brightly, mentally cursing her stupidity. Standing gracelessly, she no longer cared about what she looked like now that she'd just made a fool out of herself. She clamped her eyes shut, needing to use both hands to support herself in case she fell again. "Just carry on like I'm not here!"

"How can I when you're so wonderfully distracting?" Harry sighed, wiping the wet hair from his face to get a better look at her – she should really wear his shirts more often. Especially since the moist atmosphere was quickly turning the white shirt see-through.

"What?" Hayley called, opening her eyes, forgetting for a millisecond where she was.

Her green eyes snapped straight to Harry's icy blues, trapping her in their searing intensity. It was like he could see into her very soul, like he knew exactly who she was and what he meant to her. All Hayley could do was meet his mesmerising gaze and search for similar emotions, but their inner strength gave nothing away.

She had to keep looking into his eyes otherwise her own would start to wander. Especially since she knew that the walk-in shower was encased with clear glass. Hayley remembered that when using it last night, she thought it resembled a transparent Tardis or the glass elevator from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Seeing Harry in the buff was more than she could handle right now. She had seen his chest when examining him in the past but somehow this was different.

Somehow, confessing her love had made her even more shy and anxious. She really was a prude. The funny thing was that Hayley could handle nudity or awkward moments in a working environment, however, not so much in her personal life – she was a walking contradiction and she knew it.

Harry blinked, which snapped Hayley out of her thoughts, freeing her from the most penetrating staring contest ever. But now her eyes were no longer focused they slowly started to lower of their own volition. They went straight to the wound on his neck and then they followed the water droplets as they ran down his bare chest…

"See something you like? Or are you just going to stand and stare at me all day?"

"No! I-I mean yes! Yes…No! I-I-I'm going now!" Hayley stammered, mentally smacking herself in the face at how stupid she sounded.

Racing into the adjoining bedroom, she closed the door and let out a big sigh of relief. She giggled, suddenly feeling foolish for how childish she was acting. It's not like she hadn't seen his naked torso before, it was that the whole situation seemed ever so slightly sexual. It was lucky the bathroom had been so steamy because the head-high glass panels of the shower had misted up, masking his lower half.

_Thank god for steam, _Hayley thought,_ thank god for steam! _

With her anxiety fading, Hayley wandered over to the dresser to pick up her discarded clothes. She unbuttoned and deftly shimmied off Harry's shirt and retrieved her bra and oversized band tee. The soft jersey of her Metallica t-shirt felt so comfy against her bruised skin, and even her black skinny jeans softly encased her sore legs. Hayley was all about understated comfort. It had been fun to dress up for an evening, but she preferred her minimalist look and her minimalist lifestyle.

Looking in the mirror, she was relieved to see that practically all her makeup had washed off in last night's shower. Her eyes were bloodshot and puffy, and her hair appeared to have become a tangled mess. She'd never seen herself so vulnerable and broken. It scared her slightly.

Life had becoming increasingly complicated since knowing Harry Osborn, and even though it could be frightening at times, she wouldn't change it for anything. Well, she'd change being mugged, obviously, because if that could have not happened then that would be great. But other than that, she wouldn't change anything. She had fallen hard for Harry, and if that meant enduring situations that were out of her comfort zone, then so be it. Hayley would be there for him and she wouldn't leave no matter what.

There was no fool-proof plan for being in love.

Sighing heavily, Hayley pulled on her scruffy black Converse and a large long wool camel coloured coat, which had belonged to her Grandma. She tied her unruly hair into a messy bun and decided, now that she was dressed and felt more like herself, that she could take on the world. Well, she could take on the rest of the day at least.

Hayley decided to take the long way to the lounge area to avoid bumping into another potential naked Harry in the bathroom or bedroom.

As she sat relaxing on the grey sofa, her stomach growled which was unusual for her; maybe all the running around and stress was making her hungry. She was determined to ignore it since it was eleven o'clock and waiting 'til lunchtime seemed the best idea. The news was playing on the television and Hayley could see a "Breaking News" alert informing viewers that OsCorp had been broken into again. A shipment of military grade equipment had also been intercepted and stolen from the docks. No wonder OsCorp had contacted Harry on a Sunday.

"Are you, ah, avoiding me?" he asked casually, leaning against the doorframe, cool as a cucumber, regarding her closely with his eyebrows raised.

"No, I just thought you might want some privacy," Hayley blushed, looking down at the floor.

She practically jumped out of her skin when Harry came up behind her, leaning over the top of the sofa. He put his lips to her ear and she had to resist the urge to close her eyes.

"Oh? Privacy?" he hummed beside her ear, "I've seen nearly every inch of you, and now you've seen all of me, I think privacy is out the window for us." Harry reached forward to cup her face from behind and gave her a firm kiss. "I have nothing to hide from you."

He kissed her again, sliding his tongue over her lips, the sensuality eliciting a small soft moan from her. The kiss was strong yet demanding, like Harry thought he would never see her again. It commanded her fully attention, making sure that she knew how intense his feelings for her were. Their position was making her dizzy and her neck ache but she didn't want him to stop.

Hayley's stomach growled again loudly, breaking the kiss as Harry chuckled lightly against her lips.

"Hungry?"

She blinked up at him, damning her stomach to hell for taking his rosy lips away from her. "A little."

"I'll call Connolly to go fix us some breakfast," he said with smile, playfully prodding the messy bun atop her head, in a way that reminded Hayley that he much preferred her usual ponytail style.

"Sounds good," she breathed, smiling back at him. When he turned to leave freeing her neck from its cockeyed position, Hayley could see a wound peeking out from beneath the short sleeve of his black t-shirt. "Before you go, I need to do your vitals!"

"It's a Sunday, I think the scientists at the lab will forgive you," he replied curtly in his business voice, not turning to look at her. "Besides, I'm sure you're too tired from last night."

"But it'll give me something to focus on _other_ than last night," she pushed softly, knowing how much he really hated the thrice daily check ups. "Please Harry."

Hayley could almost see the internal cogs of his mind decided whether to give in or gently refuse her. If the wounds on his body were spreading then she needed to inspect and tend to them. She was certain that there were multiple ones on the lower half of his chest – the steam from the shower had obscured his form but not the recognisable pale green colour of new lesions.

Sighing in annoyance, Harry turned back and sat heavily next to Hayley, a childish scowl on his face. He folded his arms and stared at her expectantly, wanting it to be over before it had even begun.

Shortly after working full time treating Harry at Osborn Manor, Hayley had begun to leave her physician bag of medical tools and first aid supplies in the lounge area. It was perfect for times like this, especially when the check up times altered every day depending on his meetings or her commitments in the OsCorp laboratories. Plus, carting around the heavy bag was doing her back in.

She took off her coat and perched on the coffee table across from him. Next, Hayley pulled out said bag from beneath the table and started methodically working through each criteria of the examination. She wrote down every reading and minute detail like she did every day, and Harry didn't put up much resistance since he had grown accustomed to all her poking and prodding.

However the scowl never left his face.

"Right, take off your shirt."

Harry stared at her with a bored and disgruntled expression. "You know I only have the one on my neck."

"I haven't checked you since Friday, so there could be more."

"I don't see why you're doing this. You _never_ check me on the weekends."

"Well, the lab thinks I should start to and I agree with them," Hayley tried again, hoping that he wasn't going to fuss anymore. However his face clearly said otherwise. "Look, Harry, I know you have new ones because I saw them when you were in the shower."

Immediately his whole face softened and he cocked an eyebrow. "So, you were looking?" he asked playfully, a smug grin on his face.

"Fine. I was," Hayley admitted truthfully, wondering if he enjoyed making her life so difficult. "And it's good job I did! When were you going to tell me?"

"_When_ are we going to talk about last night?"

Hayley felt like someone had punched her in the stomach. The colour drained from her face and her green eyes narrowed. "That is not the same," she stated, her voice unusually hard.

"You need to be more careful," Harry continued ignoring her. "Now that your face is known, you can't just put yourself in danger like walking home in the dark. Powerful people hate me and they will do anything to see me fall. That means they will want to hurt the person closest to me, and that's you. You are my weakness, Hayley."

He waited for her to say something.

"Come on, don't look at me like that," he sighed as she continued to glare at him, "Look, I want you to take Pete or James when you go places, it's not safe for you anymore."

He was met with more silence.

"Hayley!" He swiftly grabbed her arm and pulled her from the coffee table and onto the sofa so that she was straddling his lap. "Don't ignore me when I'm trying to talk to you about something serious!"

"And don't you change the subject when I'm trying to _do _something serious."

"_If_ I let you examine me, will you take a bodyguard everywhere you go, _and _talk to me about last night?"

"Yes."

"Ergh, fine. Examine away," Harry said rolling his eyes, making out that she was the one making all the fuss.

He then removed his hands from her back, which he had kept in place to stop her moving from his lap. Harry was pleasantly surprised when she remained and started to push his t-shirt over his head.

When it was gone, Hayley stared and stared at how green and sore his body was with fresh sores.

"Oh Harry," she whispered, her hand going to her mouth in shock. It was worse than she thought.

His skin had turned slightly jaundice around the infected areas with angry reddish black thready veins surfacing near the worst wounds. The biggest two, on his left pectoral and lower abdomen, were a gooey weeping mess where the sensitive skin had started to disintegrate. A further five small lesions, which had begun to yellow and scab over, were surrounded with dry skin breakage. His on going wound on his neck had the worst damage, with dried blood and bruising where he'd been obviously scrubbing at it in the shower. Upon closer inspection, Hayley could see that even his face had a very slight greenish tinge to it.

How had it got this bad in the space of a day?

"Just get on with it," he mumbled, desperately trying to convey an air of indifference to the severity of his ill body.

As before, Hayley carefully and painstakingly cleaned each wound in turn, using antiseptic wipes and cotton pads to remove the gunky fluid. Then she dressed them with the large ones requiring sterile gauze and bandages, whilst the small dry ones only needing plasters. While she worked deftly, Harry barely moved, only his breathing giving away whether or not her actions caused him discomfort.

When she made to move from him, his hands that had been loose on her hips, suddenly squeezed, holding her in place again. Hayley looked at him questioningly but all he did was lean forward so that his back no longer flat against the sofa. Hayley shook her head at how ridiculous he was being but didn't say a word in protest. Instead she pushed her body closer to his so that she was able to check his back from where she sat. If anyone were to look at the pair, they would appear to be hugging.

Glancing over his shoulder, Hayley was relieved to see that his back didn't have any big wounds. The ones on his back and lower arm were only small and a lot less advanced in comparison to his front. She administered a cooling cream and large plasters to them, like she had done previously with the small owns on his torso. Even though her examination position was unusual and difficult, Hayley was certain she hadn't missed any.

With the last plaster in place, she started to notice that the hands holding her hips were becoming increasingly painful. Just as she was about to complain, Hayley felt Harry's thumbs start to rub her skin in a small circular motion. The overall feeling of pain and pleasure was not one she wanted to stop. Instead, her breathing became heavy when a sudden tingling sensation on her neck made her realise that he was kissing her there. For a moment, all Hayley could do was sit still and let her body react to him. She didn't even notice that her hips were slowly rolling until Harry let out a heated groan.

"Harry, I've finished," Hayley whispered tentatively, knowing that he probably hated having his shirt off with his green body on show. She leaned back from him and smiled as he gratefully put his shirt back on. "See that wasn't so bad."

When she made to move off him again, Harry wrapped his arms around her back, trapping her against him. "You may have finished," he breathed darkly, "But I haven't."

A loud cough made them both turn sharply towards the source. Standing over by the large graphite table was a tall man wearing a fedora and trench coat.

"Excuse me for interrupting, Mr Osborn," Gustav Fiers said slowly, his voice clear as a whistle even though it was fairly quiet, "But we have some urgent business to discuss."

Harry removed his hands from the redhead and sat back against the sofa, smirking widely. He simply stared at Hayley as she quickly got off his lap and almost fell over in the process. His piercing blue eyes followed her every movement, completely ignoring Fiers until she stood next to the sofa, unsure what to do with herself.

"Hayley, why don't you go get us breakfast from Starbucks," he ordered softly, looking away from her to focus on Fiers.

"Um, ok, what do you want?" she asked uncertainly, her eyes flicking from the sofa to the table and back again, trying to get a read off either man.

Something was going on, that she could tell, but what she could not say.

"A latte or something." Harry waved his hand at her dismissively, not really listening as he regarded the tall man strangely. "Just take your time…. And take Pete with you."

Hayley nodded and picked up her discarded coat, quickly shuffling past Fiers as she made her way to the corridor. Even close up, it was hard to see all the man's features because of that damn shadow cast by his fedora. All she could get was that he had sharp cheekbones.

As she closed the penthouse door behind her, Hayley managed to catch Harry's first sentence to the shadowed man;

"What's the status on locating our electrical friend?"

* * *

After a barista come to get her drinks order, Hayley stood in the long queue at Starbucks, thinking.

The rapid decline in Harry's physical condition had to have been caused by stress. It was the only rational conclusion she could come to. And, she had undoubtedly caused that stress by being stupid and jumping out of the cab.

She looked up at Pete who stood imposingly beside her.

If Harry felt better knowing that she was safe with a bodyguard then she wouldn't refuse their assistance. Pete and James weren't that bad, just stern looking and quiet because they were constantly assessing for danger. Heck, they may seem scary but they were just doing their job. Hayley decided that she even welcomed Pete's presence in Starbucks – she felt too afraid to be alone right now, even if she was in a public place. It wasn't just the terror of last night's attack making her anxious, but also what Harry had said about bad people wanting to hurt her because of her association with him.

Hayley glanced around the café, suddenly paranoid that there could be hidden assassins or muggers lurking in the queue or sitting at the tables. She couldn't shift the feeling that everyone was staring at her. The news was playing on a TV above the till area, so she decided to focus on that instead.

The OsCorp break-in was a popular topic it seemed, as well as various videos and images confirming more sightings of the Rhino, who hadn't been seen since his attack on Alphabet City. More footage of the violence was shown along with a scene of the Rhino fighting Spider-Man. Hayley listened closely to the reporter, Whitney Chang, who commented that the public were still divided on the vigilante's loyalties to the city.

"Online polls still show a decline in public sentiment towards the web-crawler, which has been unmoving since the release of billionaire Harry Osborn – "

"Tall, Grande or Venti?"

The barista's question snapped Hayley away from whatever Whitney Chang was talking about. She considered the question for a moment. Usually she never went to Starbucks because she simply couldn't afford it, but now OsCorp paid her exceptionally well, she might as well splash out every now and then. Plus, Harry had requested this chain specifically.

"Er, Venti please. And could you make the Caramel Macchiato with soya milk, and can the other have all the special cream and syrup please? Thanks."

The blonde barista nodded, taking Hayley's money and motioning her and the bodyguard to wait by the serving area.

They'd only been standing for a few moments before she flicked her eyes up to the commanding man beside her. "Shit! Pete, I'm sorry, I didn't ask you what you wanted. I'll join the queue again and get you something."

Pete's brown eyes showed a small amount of surprise at her concern and generosity, but he quickly pulled back on his stern façade. "No drinking on the job. But, thank you Miss Carmichael."

She shuddered at her last name. "Call me Hayley," she said kindly before going back to staring at the TV while they waited on her drinks.

Spider-Man swung back onto the screen, crawling on buildings evasively around the armoured Rhino. Hayley thought how odd of a life it must be for the masked vigilante. Leading a double life for anyone would be hard, but to be in the public eye _and_ battle criminals? It would certainly take its toll on the man. Or woman, or whoever the Spider-Man was.

It made her think of Peter Parker and how different he was acting last night.

Whilst she had initially been shocked and scared at his uncharacteristic outburst, now upon reflection, she felt guilty. Peter's grief had been so tangible and here she was being with the man that for a long time had been considered Gwen's murderer. He had every right to be angry with her. In his eyes she had betrayed him.

She had to talk to Peter and get to the bottom of whatever this feud was with Harry. There was more to the story than just two friends parting ways, of that she was certain. She couldn't ask Harry directly, and even Peter seemed guarded about the subject. It was like there was a big secret that only she was blind to. This secret had torn them apart; to understand and help either of them, she would have to discover what it was.

"Oh my god! Are you Hayley Carmichael? I saw you in today's Daily Bugle! You looked a-ma-zing at the gala last night!"

"EEK! I cannot believe it's you!"

Hayley started at the noise, suddenly noticing two young girls around the age of sixteen excitedly standing before her. She blinked back at them unsure what to do or say.

"Lacey, look, she's wearing Converse!"

"O-M-G! I like totally have the same ones at home!" Lacey shrieked back at her friend.

"Look! Look! You're on TV!"

The enthusiastic girls pointed to the screen that was now displaying footage from the gala.

The camera paned up and down the red carpet before focusing in on Hayley looking dazed by all the attention. On the screen you could see Harry talking to her before his back went straight and then suddenly he was twirling her away from him and back again. Then the camera zoomed in for a close up of them kissing, and the two girls next to Hayley squealed in animated excitement.

But Hayley ignored them, far too busy watching the footage as it played again. She tried to decipher a single familiar face in the crowds of paparazzi directly behind "screen" her.

At the exact moment where Harry's demeanour changed, she could now see whom he had been staring at, plain and clear on the screen; Peter Parker.

"Annie, aren't they like totally adorbs?" sighed Lacey.

"I know right?" Annie replied, taking out her cell phone, "Could we please, please, pretty please get a selfie with you? Our friends won't believe that we actually met you!"

Hayley took in their eager and pleading faces, and she glanced around the café, realising that everyone was staring at her. She started to feel faint, like the air was getting thin, and she stumbled a little. Pete was there in a shot, grasping her arm firmly.

"Sorry girls, no pictures," he commanded sternly, his voice held no room for compromises.

But at the sight of their disappointed face, how could Hayley refuse?

She nodded to them and forced a bright smile on her face. "Was it Lacey and Annie? Of course you can take a picture, I'm more than happy to."

Hayley nodded to Pete who rolled his eyes as the squealing girls shoved both their phones into his hands. She put her arms around the girls and was surprised at how much zealous energy they were emitting; they were trembling with excitement. They were acting like she was some sort of celebrity.

Yet again, she remembered what Harry had said about people knowing her face. Never in her wildest dreams did she think that ordering a drink would be this complicated.

Once the pictures were taken, the girls took back their phones and grabbed their ready juice drinks from the counter. Each of them hugged Hayley before skipping off, chatting animatedly about how much they loved her.

"Order for Hayley, two hot drinks!" shouted one of the baristas.

Pete grabbed the beverages from the counter and shoved them into the stunned redhead's hands. Then he firmly pushed on her lower back, steering her past all the customers who were now taking out their phones and snapping pictures. They hurried out of the overcrowded Starbucks, fortunately with no one following them.

When they had walked a couple blocks and were insight of the Osborn Manor, Pete turned to the girl who was silent beside him. "Feeling alright?"

"Will it always be like this? Does…does it getting any better?" she asked blankly, clutching the hot drinks like they were the only things grounding her.

"It will be worse, much worse," Pete replied honestly, "But that's why you've got me and James. We'll keep you safe when Mr Osborn can't."

* * *

When she arrived back at the manor, having climbed up the various staircases with the still warm lattes, she was ecstatic to see the lounge area was empty other than Harry. Thank goodness Mr Fiers had gone; she still really didn't trust the man, even though he had helped her in the hotel. Hayley had a strange feeling about him, and it wasn't a feeling that she was comfortable with.

She slowly approached Harry, who was leaning forward on the sofa, his head in his hands. Manila folders were littered all over the coffee table, with papers covered in statistics and schematics strewn in uneven piles.

The place looked like a bomb had gone off.

"Harry?" she called softly, unsure whether he even knew she was there.

"Hmm?"

"You look stressed," she said with concern, placing the steaming beverages on a small square of clear coffee table, before sitting down beside him. "Ready for a pick me up?"

Harry looked at the two takeout cups, uncertain which one to pick as they both had her name marked on the side. "Ah, which is mine?"

Picking one of them up, Hayley sniffed the lid before taking a sip. "Blergh! That's definitely yours!" she spluttered handing it over, desperately trying to ignore the shakiness in Harry's hands when he took it from her – she knew he wouldn't appreciate her commenting on it.

He regarded the cup carefully, sniffing it like she had done. Smiling widely, he then took latte to his lips and drank the mysterious liquid, letting out a satisfied sigh once he was done.

"How did you know I like Pumpkin Spice lattes?"

"Lucky guess," she said with a shy smile, picking up her own drink to stop her hands from fidgeting at the small white lie.

What Hayley didn't mention was how she rang Felicia on the walk to Starbucks, practically begging her to know what his favourite drink was. Never in her wildest dreams did she think Felicia would actually give her the correct information.

"Good guess," Harry smiled, taking another gulp of the warm spicy liquid. He relaxed and rested his arm on top of the sofa, capturing a small lock of hair fallen from the bun on Hayley's head. "You know, your hair is kind of like a pumpkin."

"W-What?"

"Well, your hair colour is anyway. You're like my very own pumpkin," he mused.

"_And a Goblin needs his pumpkin," _the Goblin commented darkly in Harry's ear.

"You are simply hilarious Harry," Hayley said sarcastically but with a smile, liking how fondly he spoke of her. "Pumpkins are for Halloween, and we've got another month 'til then. Though, I do remember my parents dressing me as one when I was nine…trick-or-treating is so much better here than when I was in England," she spoke softly, the memory of times before the fire making her feel melancholy.

Harry took that as his cue to ask the questions that had been bothering him all morning.

He put down his latte and took her hand in his, staring deeply into her green eyes. "Tell me what happened. Why did you leave the cab so far from your apartment?"

Hayley felt like a rabbit caught in headlights with no place to run to.

She chose her next words carefully. "There was a guy and he…he asked to share the ride with me," Hayley said slowly, winching slightly as Harry's grip tightened on her hand, "But then he started to act weird and he freaked me out so I just bolted." Swallowing thickly, Hayley stared into his piercing blue eyes, "I guess I wasn't thinking properly."

"And this guy, who is he? Was he even from the gala?" Harry's jaw clenched and he frowned deeply at the knowledge of some other man being anywhere near his lady.

"I think he was, I'm not sure, it's all a blur, I'm not sure who he was…" Hayley tailed off.

Technically that wasn't a lie; she didn't know whether or not Peter had actually attended the gala inside the hotel, and truth be told, she didn't know who he was anymore.

"Did he chase you?"

"No –"

"But you ran?"

Hayley nodded and bowed down her head – she didn't know what else to say.

"What about the man in the alley?"

"I don't want to – "

"Hayley, the cops are going to ask the same questions. If you can't tell me, then how will you tell them?"

She sighed with sadness and drank some of her stone cold Macchiato, trying to prolong the inevitable. "I can't remember much. I don't think I want to remember," Hayley said, her voice steady but void of any emotion. "It was really dark but I could see the tattoos on his knuckles from how he was holding the knife. They reminded me of the ones on Alexis Sytsevich. And he was Russian too, I could tell from his accent, his voice sounded cold…"

"What about his face, Hayley?" Harry pressed again – he needed something valid to aid Kraven in locating the mugger.

"I don't want to see his face, please Harry, I can't!" Her eyes automatically closed at the thought, a slight crack entered her voice.

Harry took the coffee cup out of her hand and put it beside his on the table. Then he placed his hand gingerly on her injured cheek, the one that bastard had cut.

"You're scared, I get it, but I can't help you if you stay silent."

"I think he had a broken nose, like those boxers that have been punched too many times," Hayley recalled, fighting her mind to not shut down and go blank every time the muggers face appeared. "And if he didn't then he does now. I think I smacked him before it all went black."

"You shouldn't have even tried to fight him off! What were you thinking?" Harry chastised, taking her face in his hands. "You should never have left – "

"I know, I'm sorry – "

"No! It's my fault! I should have never let you leave! I should have been with you the whole time!" Harry shouted angrily, leaping up from the sofa. In a rage he swept his hands across the coffee table, papers flying everywhere, the takeout cups spilling their contents. "Fuck!"

Hayley didn't know if he was cross with her or himself, it was hard to tell. She was too busy trying to catch a glimpse of his eyes in case they started turning green.

Harry exhaled sharply, glaring at the mess he'd just created. "Come here Hayley," he said a little too harshly, offering his hand to her. When she took it, he pulled her into his arms and held her tight. "I want you to stay the night again," he ordered softly, "I don't want you anywhere near your apartment alone. I need you, here, with me. I need you to be safe."

* * *

With the decision made that Hayley would be staying another night, Harry had sent her off to her apartment to pick up extra clothes and toiletries. He wanted to come with her, but he was still under house arrest. So she had taken Pete and James with her instead, though she made them wait outside whilst she packed her things. Her apartment was a mess and it was pretty embarrassing in comparison to the finery of Osborn Manor.

In the car journey to and from the Bowery, Hayley couldn't stop her mind from wandering. All she thought about was how one stressful night had made Harry's physical manifestation of Retroviral Hyperplasia go from fairly good to unstable. If she hadn't checked on him…no, she had checked him and that's what mattered.

But if she wasn't around him every second of every day, then how would she be able to monitor his stress levels? Even Harry's anger, an almost tell tale sign of the Goblin's return, seemed to be creeping back into every day conversation. His condition needed to be controlled; she needed to manage his illness better than she had been.

Maybe her colleagues at the OsCorp labs were right, maybe she needed to be with him constantly to give round the clock care. What if something happened, a stressor of sorts, when she wasn't there? Then what? He could be sent back to Ravencroft.

If his condition today were anything to go by, then it wouldn't be long before he fucked up.

* * *

His pocket started buzzing and Harry retrieved his cell phone. He stared at it for a minute, eyes narrowing at the unknown number flashing across the screen. Only a specific few had this number, which made him instantly suspicious. He let it ring out five times before the mysterious caller decided to leave a voicemail message.

"Answer the bloody phone, it's me!" came the annoyed gruff voice of his lawyer.

Harry rolled his eyes as the phone began to buzz again. "Is this line secure?" he barked seriously, reluctantly answering the phone.

"Yes!"

"I thought I told you to only to call this number from your cell."

"Look Harry, it's been a long night, I'm hung over, I've got a banging headache, and my secretary has my cell," Manners retorted loosing his patience. "I'm using my home phone which is a secure line. Ok?"

"Fine," Harry muttered, flicking the bangs from his eyes, "Get to the point of this conversation. Quickly."

"Have you seen the papers?"

Harry paused and glanced at the pile of day old newspapers now scattered over the table and floor – they had not yet been replaced with todays. "No."

Chuckling sarcastically, Manners continued, "Of course you haven't. Because if you had, you would know why I was calling." The lawyer breathed out a long sigh, trying to control his voice, which was becoming louder and more bitter by the minute. "The gala is the focus of every paper, obviously. But guess who is on every front cover? Go on, guess!"

"Oh, I don't know Manners…Spider-Man?" Harry replied rolling his eyes at how ridiculously stressed out the lawyer was being.

"No. It's you. And Hayley," said Manners, his voice shaking with anger. "The Daily Bugle has a ten page spread of gala photos, and you both take up _eight_ of those ten pages. Eight! And The Manhattan Mirror is calling Hayley "the radiant Osborn gem." A fucking gem, Harry! Like she's some expensive jewel or something! And there is even a spread dedicated to her fashion choices!"

"How interesting," responded Harry, not really paying any mind to Manners having a breakdown.

All he could do was smirk at all the media attention; they saw what he did.

That Hayley was his.

"Harry? Are you even listening? Time Out magazine is calling you the "power couple" of the moment!"

"Really?"

"No. I was just checking you were listening. Come on Harry, think! This is a dangerous game you're playing here and you need to be smart."

"Manners – "

"No! Don't you Manners me! This isn't just you're life, this about hers too. You have your name and fortune to hide behind. She has nothing! Nothing! If something happens – "

"Nothing will _ever_ happen," Harry said firmly - he would protect Hayley no matter what.

"Good." Manners paused, trying to let all his anger fade away – he was getting another migraine. "How is Hayley anyway? The hotel informed me after you left."

What Manners neglected to say, was that the hotel rang the police when he threatened staff after finally noticed Harry's absence. He only knew about the situation because the police officer that came to arrest him was the same one who took Harry down to the station earlier. Luckily, the officer was also a contact of Manners, so after a bit of persuasion the hotel dropped the charges. A little bit of cash had been splashed to keep the incident hush hush.

"She's a bit, a bit distant, sad I guess," Harry sighed rubbing his forehead.

He was worried for her, unsure how to take away the emptiness behind her eyes when she recounted her attack. Even her speaking with her normally, Harry felt like her spark had been diminished. Wasn't telling her he loved her enough?

"That's understandable after what she's gone through."

"Is it?" Harry then filled the lawyer in on everything the police had said at the station and what Hayley had told him earlier.

"Jeez, Harry. Any idea who the guy is that mugged her?"

"I have someone locating him now. He will be taken care of."

Manners paused. "As long as you can't be linked back to it, that's all I ask. What about the guy from the cab?"

"She was pretty vague, but he will be found eventually."

"Ok. So after the station, what happened? Did the police take her home? Did they set up a patrol car outside her apartment?"

"I took her to mine – "

"HARRY! What did I just say about being smart? God damn it!"

"Need I remind you that she was mugged last night, you idiot? She asked to stay with me because she was scared. It wouldn't be _smart_ to refuse would it?"

"Hmmm. Fine." The lawyer's migraine was getting worse by the minute and Harry's sarky childish behaviour wasn't helping. "Just don't make it a regular thing. We don't want to give the press any more ammunition. No one can doubt her ability to treat you. Besides, if the press thought she was living with you, then God help us."

* * *

"Remind me again why you have four TV's?" Hayley asked, popping a piece of warm shawarma meat into her mouth. Apparently the food was one of Harry's favourite foods.

When Hayley had returned from her apartment, Harry could tell that she was visibly shaken from having to go back there. He cursed himself for still being bound to his own home, but seeing her so upset and distant only made him hunger more for the mugger to be found. Kraven had texted with the news that he was following a gang of five who patrolled the Bowery. However, they were keeping a low profile due to the heavy police presence in the area. The news pleased Harry immensely, though he wished that he could please Hayley and put a smile on face.

So to cheer her up, he decided they would order in a takeaway and watch The Cornetto Trilogy movie marathon that was on one the special movie channels you had to pay for.

They had moved the coffee table and slid round Harry's favourite sofa so that they were able to see the multitude of televisions more clearly. He had even made Connolly find a few candles to create a nice romantic atmosphere. Harry Osborn knew how to wine and dine a lady.

Currently they were sitting curled up under a blanket watching Hot Fuzz, which was Hayley's favourite of the trilogy because it reminded her of living in England. She liked explaining the differences between British police and American cops, and Harry was more than happy to listen, especially with that pretty smile back on her face.

"I have four in case I want to watch more than one thing," Harry said simply, like the answer was obvious.

"Only girls can multitask like that Harry," Hayley teased lightly, her bright but shy personality finally making a return. "More than one TV in a room is a little excessive."

"I'm sure the interior decorator had a reason other than getting more money from my father…" He turned to look at Hayley whose face looked doubtful.

"Really?"

"No. Probably fed the old man that Feng shui bullshit all decorators are obsessed with."

"Now you're pulling my leg," Hayley giggled struggling to keep herself from full-blown laughter. "What the hell is F-Fungshway?"

"It's when you arrange furniture in a room to bring balance to the environment or something," Harry replied seriously, "And possibly aligning your chi with the elements to – "

Hayley howled with laughter, tears of hilarity running down her face. "Oh my god, I can't, I can't take you seriously! I'm sorry, but, ha ha ha! Fangchway? It sounds, he he, it sounds like shawarma with a fungal infection!"

Harry couldn't help but chuckle along with her. He was completely entranced by the way her eyes sparkled and how her hand touched her nose, unconsciously trying to conceal her mouth when she laughed. It was the first time he had ever seen Hayley laugh properly and he felt a strange sense of honour that he was the cause of her happiness. It was a beautiful thing to see her joyful again, especially considering last night's events. He had hated witnessing her cry, to see her vulnerable and stripped down to a shell of a person.

That would never happen again; he would make the bastard bleed.

When her fit of laughter ceased, Hayley settled back into watching the movie. The food had been wonderful, a delicacy she'd never eaten before, but it was extremely filling. So she placed her half full plate on the floor with Harry's, and leaned her head against his shoulder, snuggling into his side. She was conscious not to touch or irritate his bandaged wounds, so she put her hands on his leg.

Almost immediately, Harry snaked his arm round her waist and pulled her down with him so that they were lying on the sofa. The sudden movement knocked the television remote from his lap and onto the floor, the plastic buttons pressed, changing the channel. However, Harry didn't care what was playing on the screen, instead focusing his attention on kissing Hayley who was squirming above him.

He caressed her face as he deepened the kiss, causing soft little humming noises to tumble from her lips. The feeling of her dainty hips circling made his hands more demanding, his kiss more insistent. He needed to feel her, he needed to touch every part of her, he needed her, he needed all of her. Harry slid his hand beneath her t-shirt, running his fingers delicately across the cool skin of her back. He was delighted when she trembled and broke away from his lips to moan louder than she ever had before. It was almost too much for Harry to bear.

Hayley started to push at his own t-shirt and Harry hurriedly removed it, noticing that her pleasure-glazed eyes were drifting to look at something other than him. So he pulled her face back to him, capturing her mouth again. He wanted to be her only focus in that moment.

"Oh my god, Harry!"

"Hmmm…Hayley…"

"Harry, look!"

"Can't. Too busy kissing you."

"Harry, I'm serious, look!"

"Are…you going to…hit me with…your handbag if I don't," Harry teased kissing her after every couple of words.

"Harry!"

Suddenly he could hear the pure panic and alarm in her voice, and he noticed how she was no longer moving along with his body, her own now turned away and shaking. He looked up to see her eyes fearful, the hand not limp on his chest covering her mouth in shock. Following her gaze, Harry saw that the TV screen displayed a myriad of bright amber colours, the news focusing on a building being torn apart by flames.

Harry shifted where he lay, reluctantly untangling himself from the redhead so that he could grab the discarded remote. He stood, aiming to get a better angle to turn up the volume, before a soft hand grabbed his own urgently.

"That's the apartment block next to mine!" Hayley whispered, her voice trembling with every syllable as she stood beside Harry, her hand squeezing his. "What if, what if mine catches fire, what if…Harry! Look!" she cried, pointing at the screen.

And so his concerned eyes left her tear-streamed face and returned to the TV.

The screen displayed the Rhino shooting bullets and missiles into a tall building fully ablaze with orange flames licking inside and outside smashed windows. The footage was shaking, showing viewers that the report was live, with people screaming heard in the background. Cops were everywhere, shooting the mechanised criminal from behind the safety of their cars. It was unclear whether or not the Sytsevich was just fighting the cops or something else off camera.

Yet the Rhino was relentless, causing multiple explosions continuously, his power never wavering.

"I can't go back there, I can't go back there, I can't go back there," Hayley repeated over and over, quickly becoming hysterical again. She turned and flung her arms around Harry's neck, sobbing into his shoulder. "I can't go back there, I can't go back there."

"Hey, hey, it's going to be ok," Harry soothed, gripping his arms tight around her. "You're safe. You're safe here. You're safe Hayley."

Lifting her head so she could see his eyes, Hayley searched those all knowing icy blues, finding comfort in their honest stability. She quickly pressed a kiss to his lips. Her heart was racing again. Maybe it was the adrenaline of seeing destruction so close to her home, or maybe it was because her nerves were tingling with the anticipation of the question on the tip of her tongue. The question she had been considering for days, no, weeks now.

"You're safe with me, Hayley," Harry repeated, rubbing small circles on her back.

"Harry, I can't go back there, I can't, it's too dangerous there, I know that now," she rambled, trying to make sense of her thoughts. "I need stay with you Harry."

"Yes I know, you're staying night, we discussed that earlier - "

"No, I mean, I need to stay here. Please can I stay here…for good?"

Harry stared at the redhead for a moment taking in her pleading green eyes. She wanted to stay with him. She wanted to live, here, in Osborn Manor… with him.

"Of course, doll," he replied quietly, a satisfied smile spreading across his lips. Hayley melted into him as he held her close, not wanting to let go now she was his. "You can stay as long as you like."

She rested her head against his shoulder, fresh sobs wracking her body as another explosion boomed on the TV screen. Relief and fear overwhelmed her and she clung to Harry like he was the only person left in the world.

And he was.

He was the only person she had.

Harry rubbed her back and playfully fiddled with her auburn hair as she continued to cry upon him. More destruction glowed on the screen, illuminating his face. He was grinning madly, eyes blooming with green specks as he watched the sinister devastation unfold, his girl in his arms.

And when Spider-Man swung into frame, he held her tighter and mouthed:

"Mine."

* * *

**The tension between them is even killing me! There is method to my madness of teasing you all, trust me, **_**it **_**will happen before the new year!**

**To check out Kraven's voice and face, look up TASM2 video game on YouTube and you'll get a sense of him. Also, if parts of how I've described him kind of sounds like Bane (Batman), check out what he looks like on Google. When I was writing his character description I was like "Nooo! Why is he kinda the Marvel equivalent of Bane?" They are both completely different characters, but certain aspects of their appearance are similar… damn comic parallels! **

**Any who, love to all you readers, followers, favouriters, reviewers, and appreciation lurkers. More excitement to come, hope you're all enjoying it so far - I have a lot planned for this fic! **

**MUCH LOVE XXX**


	23. Chapter 23

**Featured song**: _Home – _Gabrielle Aplin / _Maybe You – _Say Lou Lou

* * *

**I do not own Spider-Man, The Amazing Spider-Man 2 movie, or anything related to the Marvel franchise etc Though, I own Hayley and Manners, and a few other things…like all the hearts of people who read this fic…maybe. **

* * *

Hayley found herself waking up in an empty bed again.

Much like the previous night, having to witness destruction so close to her home had caused her to sleep almost instantaneously when she finally crawled into Harry's bed.

After crying on his shoulder for what felt like hours, Hayley had wept her last tear, and now all she could feel was numb. It felt like the whole world was falling apart and there was nothing she could do to stop it. Her only anchor in all this chaos was Harry.

He had gently pulled her to the bathroom and had started to coax her towards the shower before his cell buzzed and he quickly left. But Hayley didn't mind. She knew how busy Harry had been answering phone calls all day concerning the latest OsCorp break in. All that matter was that he cared.

A long and warm shower in which she had scrubbed herself raw made the numbness dull slightly. Her pyjamas, an oversized navy t-shirt with three white pine trees decorating the front, and some black leggings, had made the prospect of sleep more bearable. Every time she closed her eyes all she could see was fire. The fire of burning apartment buildings, the flame tattoos decorating her mugger's knuckles, the predatory fire in Kinsey's black eyes, and the fire that had engulfed her parents. Hayley was certain she was experiencing some low level form of PTSD.

She never felt more like a child than in that moment, crying on Harry's shoulder, than she ever had in her adult life. Only children cried, not adults. She was only twenty-one, but age was just a number, and Hayley didn't feel like the professional adult that she was meant to be. Harry was only a year younger and was acting more of an adult than she.

The world was too big and she was drowning in it. She was an embarrassment to the medical profession. Barely holding it together herself whilst treating one of the most sort after cases in recent times. How could she call herself a psychiatrist when her own issues, her own feelings, were getting in the way?

Hayley buried her head deeper under the covers; once more trying to bury all her adult worries by simply denying any such issues existed.

An abrupt smash cut through the white noise of her thoughts, causing Hayley to sit bolt upright, hand over her fluttering chest. She glanced around hopelessly, her eyes not yet accustomed to the pitch-black room. It was only when she had blinked a couple of times, did she notice the bathroom door slightly ajar. A strip of orange glowed around its edges, indicating its occupancy.

"Harry?" she called softly. Hayley watched the crack at the base of the door and noticed a black shadow moving. "Harry? Harry, are you ok?"

Silence.

Ripping back the covers, Hayley cautiously stepped from the bed, her bare feet padding softly on the wooden floor. She hugged her body, shivering slightly. Whether her quivering state was from the chill or distress of what was behind the door, she could not say. Whatever it was, the adrenaline was making her bold and she quickly grabbed hold of the doorknob and pulled.

"Harry?"

Harry was standing in the middle of the illuminated bathroom, hunched over, near the basin and sleek countertops. He was staring rather aggressively at a mirror shard in his bloodied hands; the remaining smashed pieces littered the porcelain floor around his bare feet. The accelerated rise and fall of his naked chest indicated that although his body was relatively still, Harry was far from all right. Beads of sweat dotted his face, and the floppy fringe that normally covered his forehead was pushed back, sticking up high on the top of his head. His long navy coloured cotton sleep pants were rumpled, like he had been tossing and turning during the night. If he had, Hayley had no memory of it – she couldn't even remember him joining her, let alone leaving.

The bandages that she'd applied earlier were still intact all over his body, but the covered wound on his neck appeared to be surrounded by raised agitated black veins. She managed to catch a glimpse of his eyes reflected in the mirror piece that he held tightly – they were violently burning green.

"Harry?" repeated Hayley, trying to keep her voice low yet clear so as not to alarm him.

"I am the shadow. You are the dark. You will always be longing for me to begin spiralling downward…" Harry muttered quietly, over and over.

The words made little sense to her, but she stored them away in her mind to analyse later.

Inching closer, Hayley stepped around the ruined mirror on the floor. It was hard to keep her eyes on both Harry and the treacherous ground, and she bit her tongue, holding back a shriek of pain. Already she could feel warm liquid spilling around her toes as a small piece of mirror embedded itself in her big toe. She risked a glance downwards, noting that the blood wasn't enough to be alarmed about. However, the amount dribbling from Harry's hands was.

Hayley's progress towards Harry was fairly swift considering the glass obstacles and her painful toe, but to her it seemed as if a vast number of minutes had passed. All she could think of was Harry's safety and mental stability.

There was a small space between Harry and the sink, and she carefully slid her body into it. She stood directly in front of him now, her back pressed against the polished basin. Harry's eyes never left the mirror shard. It was like she didn't even exist.

"…I am the shadow. You are the dark. You will always be longing for me to begin spiralling downward…"

Hayley was unsure what to do. Although his eyes were green, they had a distinct distant glaze to them, like he wasn't present in the moment. She decided that a gentle approach, a light touch, might bring him back out of whatever trance he was in. But where should she touch him? His face? His bloody hands? His chest?

"…I am the shadow. You are the dark. You will always be longing for me to begin spiralling downward…"

Reaching out, Hayley brought her hand to his face, delicately resting it against his cheek.

"…I am the shadow. You are the – "

Instantly, Harry's eyes shifted from his reflection straight up to her face. Green intense eyes met her concerned emerald gaze. He did not move, he did not flinch, he did not even speak. All he did was stare at her.

Hayley swallowed thickly, throat suddenly dry, the hand on his cheek shaking slightly. "Harry, talk to me. What's happening?"

"_You are the shadow. I am the dark."_

"No, Ha-Goblin. I'm Hayley," she tried again, her heart racing at the sudden gritty change in his voice.

"_Ginge?"_

"Yes, it's me, it's Ginge."

"_Ginge – "_

Suddenly, Hayley's body became painfully wedged against the hard sink and Harry's hips, her back bending awkwardly as he towered over her. She felt dampness on her arm, as one of his bloody hands left the coveted shard and gripped her in place. The hand holding the mirror fragment shot towards her face, making Hayley squeak and shut her eyes fast.

"_\- can you see? Can you see the monster?"_

She opened her eyes to stare up at him looming over her, absolutely terrified. The angle of his raised hand forced her into looking upon her own reflection in the mirror piece like he had been doing earlier. His eyes were now glaring at her as if to gage her reaction. However they were still green and still clouded. The absence in his gaze reminded her of the patients' in Ravencroft who sleepwalked.

"No," she breathed trying to keep calm, "I can only see me. And you. And the light."

"_You are my light, Ginge," _he responded, the intensity behind his vague eyes lessening. Leaning forward, he rested his forehead against hers, his shaking hand dropping from the threatening position near Hayley's neck.

With normal breaths returning to her, Hayley stroked his cheek, knowing that he would not harm her. "Please let me help you. Let go of the mirror, you're hurting yourself. Here, let me help you." She removed her hand from his skin and began feeling for his hand, squeezing his wrist firmly until she heard the clatter of the sharp fragment hitting the floor. "See? That's better isn't it?"

"_I won't let him take you, no one can take you, no one!"_

The furious intensity had returned to Harry's sleep filled eyes – it was almost like his alter ego was trying to fight against the very present somnambulism that his body was experiencing.

"I'm right here, Goblin. No one is going to take – "

"_I won't let him take you away. I won't let him take away my hope. I won't let you turn out like him…you will not betray me."_

"Like who? Like Peter?"

That was evidently the wrong thing to say.

She ducked, screaming upon realising what he was about to do.

Harry swiftly removed his hand from her weak grip and raised a balled up fist ready to punch. His hand sailed through the space where Hayley's face had been only mere seconds before, hitting the remains of the shattered mirror on the wall. Yelling, he recoiled back, cradling his pained fist. He blinked rapidly and shook his head, his damp fringe returning to its natural position.

From behind his bangs, Harry's eyes, wide and alert, darted around the bathroom. He took in the smashed glass, the bloody floor, and a shaking redhead who was hiding under the sink.

He rushed to her, kneeling down, ignoring the pain as both his hands reached out for her. "Hayley? What happened? Hayley? Look at me, please?" His hands found her bony shoulder and auburn ponytail, and he gently tugged the latter, trying desperately to get her to look at him. "Please, look at me!" Harry asked again, practically begging.

Forcing herself to evaporate every shred of fear from her eyes, Hayley responded to his hair pulling and she turned her head. Her eyes searched his, and she relaxed at seeing them sparkling blue and present again. He was awake, no longer in the trance of disturbed sleep. Keeping her face as calm and serene as possible, Hayley took his undamaged hand and laced her fingers through his. Her other hand went to his cheek once more, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief, moving into her touch.

She pushed down her inner worries and went into professional mode. "Nothing happened," she said softly, "You just had a small disagreement with the mirror."

"Yeah, I can see that! But why? What did I do?" Harry questioned, his brow furrowing in confusion. He twizzled a strand of her hair between his bloody fingers.

"Shhh, everything is alright," Hayley soothed, "You were sleepwalking, Harry. It's very common, especially after what you've been through. All that matters is that you're safe."

"But – "

"Give me your hand."

Not leaving any room for argument, Hayley grabbed his injured hand and softly traced her fingers over it. From what she could see, the cut was shallow, which was a miracle considering how long he had been gripping the mirror piece. She nodded her approval and they both shuffled away from the sink and stood. Hayley then turned on the cold tap and shoved his bloody hand under it. He hissed at the sudden temperature change, but didn't complain when she started to wash away the dried blood.

Once it was fully clean, she held it up to the light and nodded again – she was happy to see the shallow gash wouldn't need stitches. Then Hayley grabbed a purple hand towel and wound it around his palm to prevent further bleeding and agitation.

"Let's go back to bed, ok?" she smiled reassuringly, her hand sliding softly up and down his bare arm, before gently tugging him out of the bathroom.

Harry followed her lead obediently, his anxiety levels dropping, latching on to her calm and collected demeanour. It had been pretty weird going from lying in bed beside her watching her sleep, to then suddenly being in the bright bathroom with her cowered before him. He couldn't remember anything. Not getting out of bed, not breaking the mirror, not hurting his hand. Nothing. It left Harry feeling uneasy. He wouldn't go as far to say that he was frightened, but pretty damn close. It was Hayley's relaxed attitude towards the whole sleepwalking episode that was keeping him calm. She seemed so knowledgeable, so sure of herself – he couldn't quite believe that she was the woman sharing his bed.

All of a sudden her lips were on his, and Harry blinked in the darkness of his room. He instinctively reached his hands towards her face, wanting to hold her to him, to deepen her tentative kiss. But then pain shot through his arm and he pulled back, swearing at his injured hand.

"It's ok," Hayley whispered, her hand tracing imaginary patterns on his bare chest, "We're in this together, Harry. You and me."

"Yes, yes we are," he murmured back trying to stifle a yawn.

Hayley stared up into his eyes, suddenly very aware that they were alone together in his room, in the dark.

"Bedtime!" she squeaked before diving under the covers, leaving Harry shaking his head at how positively hilarious her innocence was.

He pulled back the thick duvet and tutted at her. "Well, move over. I won't have you sleeping with me if you're going to hog the whole bed," he teased, smirking when she glared at him, shoving her middle finger up into the air.

Hayley shrieked again when Harry slid in beside her, his hands pulling her close to him.

"Cold! Your hands are cold!"

"Yeah, that's why I'm touching you. You're warm."

"But you're cold!" she moaned, wriggling around as Harry's non bandaged hand splayed across her stomach.

"Care to change that? I can think of many things we could do to keep me warm," he whispered, his breath tickling her ear. "Besides, isn't it survival 101 that to stay warm you have to share another person's body heat?"

"You're not dying of hypothermia, Harry. That's a teeny bit overdramatic."

"True. But I am dying."

Instantly he felt her playful struggles stop. Her hand reached up beneath her baggy t-shirt and she laced her fingers through his. Harry kissed her neck, trying to lighten the mood a little.

"Do you think you're still dying," came her strained voice.

"Maybe, though I can't say for certain. The Osborn curse my father gifted me appears to be a little more difficult to cure than with the engineered spider venom" he admitted with a sigh, "That would have been too easy."

"That's why your daily check ups are so important! The data I collect could one day lead to a cure," Hayley implored.

Harry sighed again and buried his face further into her soft hair. "Being poked, prodded and analysed under a microscope is not on my bucket list of things to do before I die."

"And before I met you, spooning with Harry Osborn in his ginormous bed was not on my list! But things change and here we are. My list has now been forever changed."

"Care to enlighten me? What else is on your list regarding me?" he murmured suggestively, lightly kissing her neck again.

"Sleep now," she yawned, "I'll tell you tomorrow."

Hayley relaxed, snuggling her back further against Harry's chest, before closing her eyes with a smile on her face, waiting for sleep to come.

She waited.

And waited.

"You asleep?" she breathed some ten minutes later.

"No."

"Why not?"

Hayley felt his lips moving against her neck but heard no sound.

"What?"

"I said, I'm too anxious to sleep."

Reaching up behind her, Hayley's hand found his hair and stroked it lightly. She then twirled parts of his fringe around her fingers before caressing his ear and neck.

"It's ok, Harry, I'm here. I'm here. I won't leave you."

She repeated her actions and words many times until his breathing became deep and steady, telling her that he was asleep.

And that was the beginning of Harry's night terrors.

* * *

Monday had passed by quickly, almost too quickly for Hayley's liking. She had spent the whole day napping and reading; Harry had numerous meetings, all held at the graphite table, no doubt about the OsCorp break in that was all over the news. Hayley didn't know exactly what had happened, only that it involved the Russian mob.

Maybe her mugger was part of the mob? He was Russian. Was that a racist assumption? She wasn't sure, but what she did know is how thinking about the mugger hurt too much. So she stopped thinking about it.

Harry was up late that night and had left her to sleep alone, until she heard him screaming in the other room. She had found him thrashing about on the sofa, sweat pouring off of him. Fortunately the Goblin hadn't re-emerged and it was only a bad nightmare. They had gone back to bed, Hayley stroking his head until he had fallen back into a semi-peaceful slumber.

* * *

The next morning, Tuesday, was D-Day for Hayley – it was the day she would have to give a proper account of her mugging. And she was dreading it.

She was already dressed and waiting for Harry on the sofa. Hayley hadn't put too much thought into what she was wearing to be honest for her mind elsewhere, desperately trying to ignore the impending visit to the NYPD. Her ginger locks were in a plaited ponytail so that the September breeze wouldn't turn it to knots. The long caramel coloured coat and skinny jeans were back, along with her scruffy Converse and a warm black jumper. Comfort was a necessity today, not only for the cold but because it was probably going to be an emotional visit to the police station.

Drumming her fingers on the couch arm agitatedly, Hayley glanced at a golden gilt clock that was resting on the bookshelf above one of the four T.V monitors. It was 9 o'clock in the morning. They had an hour to get to the NYPD depending on the traffic. As much as she didn't want to leave, she actually did so that it could be over with. It was the waiting, the lead up, and the anxious anticipation that was killing her.

Finally, the sound of the bedroom door opening roused her attention, and Hayley looked over to see Harry standing tall in the doorway, a smirk from ear to ear.

He was wearing black jeans, a dark navy t-shirt, patterned scarf, and black leather jacket and boots. Casual looked so alluring on him yet so powerful at the same time. When he was dressed in a suit and tie wearing the guise of the youngest and most powerful CEO of OsCorp, he had the ability to command men more then twice his age. The same authority he held whilst in a suit was just as much present when he wore normal clothing. Today he was no longer a businessman, just a regular man with a stance that oozed power and control.

It made Hayley's legs turn to jelly and her knees go weak. She had a sudden image of Harry pinning her against the mahogany walls, his lips upon her own, her legs wrapped around his waist. The thought almost had her eyes rolling back in imaginative ecstasy. But the daydream vanished as quickly as it came, because Harry was talking to her and she needed to listen.

"What?"

"I said if you keep staring at me like that we won't be able to the leave."

"Huh?"

Harry shook his head smiling to himself – she really was clueless to how she affected him. "Oh I don't know, maybe its something about the way you're looking at me."

"_She's thinking about something dirty, I can tell. Look at the blush on her cheeks," _the Goblin purred in his ear.

Feigning innocence, Hayley blinked and gave him a shy smile.

"Never mind. We'll be late – lets go."

* * *

They took the Sedan and rode in silence to the police station, with Hayley only becoming more and more distant the nearer they got. Every so often she would crack her knuckles and re-plait her hair, almost like a nervous tick, as well as trying to distract herself by staring out the car window. The outside world was a blur of bleak colours. Harry knew there was nothing he could do or say to make the situation any better. Therefore, every so often he would give her knee a comforting squeeze, though he was certain that she barely noticed. Evidently today was going to be tough for her.

When they finally reached the NYPD, Harry guided her out of the car, noticing that she wouldn't even make eye contact. As soon as Hayley had exited the car, she immediately left Harry's side to lean against the stone building, her head bowed in solemn numbness. She had a distant look in her eyes, like she had removed herself entirely from the situation. It worried him greatly, but before he could say anything, the large double doors of the stone building opened to reveal a very familiar figure.

"Harry my boy!" boomed Wilson Fisk as he descended down the small stone steps and onto the sidewalk.

"Fisk," Harry said, nodding to the man as they shook hands.

"Sticky business this mugging. Not good for the image, Harry, it's not something we want to have associated with the charity."

"Indeed."

"_Indeed, Fisk, indeed," _the Goblin commented impatiently in Harry's ear.

"I've spoken with Captain Sims about containing the exposure of this heinous crime," Fisk drawled, running his hands up and down the lapels of his expensive signature white suit. "However, it appears that once Miss Carmichael has identified her assailant, his face will appear on every major news network. I had considered buying them off to keep the story quiet. Of course, I would need your approval on this matter."

Harry folded his arms and glared at the older man. As much as the idea appealed to him, he had to save face for Hayley's sake. She needed to continue believing that he was no longer associated with organised crime. It would be much easier to kill her attacker if his face wasn't plastered on the evening news, but the police were bound by laws and he needed to have them on board with the farce of his good and wholesome persona. Besides, Kraven would find him before the identified man disappeared underground or was caught and arrested.

"I do not consider that the best move to make," Harry spoke steadily, leaning back on the parked Sedan to convey air of nonchalant superiority. "Would it not be prudent to have this criminal named and shamed to bring legitimacy to our charity's campaign? Where was Spider-Man during her attack? Nowhere! Our charity wishes to rebuild this city's damages caused by the spider and criminals alike. And should that not include the damages to the people themselves? No one is safe. Not even the wealthy."

Fisk stared at the young man, the venom and power in his voice reminding Fisk of the late Norman Osborn – like father, like son it seemed.

"Very well. I will issue a statement regarding the charity's views on the matter when her attacker has been identified."

Nodding in approval, Harry yawned and flipped the bangs from his eyes that the stubborn breeze had moved.

"You look rather tired young Harry," Fisk commented, "All those late nights thanks to the recent break in, I trust?"

"Yeah," Harry muttered looking over at the redhead who remained passive a few feet away, "Something like that."

Fisk followed the young man's gaze to the auburn girl, putting two and two together. "She is rather lovely, I can see why you'd be staying up all night with her… I think I would too."

Instantly Harry turned back to Fisk, daggers in his shockingly green eyes, but the older businessman had already begun to walk away.

"_He will be going nowhere near Ginge alone."_

"Agreed," Harry murmured to his alter ego under his breath, watching Fisk get into a white Bentley. Then he walked over to where Hayley was standing and was about to pull her into an embrace, before he heard the businessman call out to him.

"I've arranged us a meeting at OsCorp tomorrow, 11am sharp," Fisk thundered, his head peeking out of the lowered car window, "Do not be late."

"_He'll probably be late himself, the giant idiot!"_

Harry watched as the car drove off, rolling his eyes in frustration at having to be within ten feet of that man, especially tomorrow before lunch.

"Harry?"

He turned his attention back to Hayley, smiling warmly at her.

"I've just noticed that we drove here without a police escort," she said slowly, confusion on her petite face. "We are standing outside without an officer to watch you. And did I hear you're having a meeting at OsCorp tomorrow? I don't understand. You're still under house arrest! You've got a few more weeks left – "

"I was wondering when you would notice," Harry smirked, wrapping his arms around her, "The judge was at the gala, saw how I behaved myself the whole night and was impressed by the charity's values. And when he heard how I rushed to your aid and didn't kill anyone in the process, he decided to cut my sentence short. I am now a free man."

The Goblin chuckled in his ear, _"Took you long enough to tell her! Though it was fun taking bets on when she would finally notice – you owe me five grand."_

"Are you serious? When did this happen? Why didn't you tell me? That's amazing! Eeee! I am so proud of you Harry," Hayley gushed, jumping up and down in his arms. "What do you want to do first? Do you want to go somewhere, do something? Name it and lets do it!" she babbled in hysterical excitement.

"_You ever gonna tell her that OsCorp basically bought off the Judge along with that good behaviour bullshit?"_

"As much as I would like to, my freedom will be officially announced on the news tomorrow. I'd rather keep a low profile so that I can truly enjoy the taste of freedom until the sharks descend."

"_And they will come, like bees to honey. Killing them all would be so much fun Harry."_

Hayley nodded understandingly against his shoulder before pulling away to plant a generous kiss on his lips.

He wrapped his arms tighter around her, one of them holding the back of her head, gripping her thick plait gently. "I fear we have a few errands to run before we can truly enjoy ourselves."

"Like what?"

"Oh, I don't know, like walking into the police station."

Sighing, Hayley nodded reluctantly, taking hold of his hand and allowing him to lead her into the bowels of the NYPD.

* * *

For an hour, Harry had stood behind the one-way mirror with Captain Sims and another detective, watching Hayley as she described her attack.

He had spent another hour standing and gazing at her still, as she worked with a sketch artist to draw the face of her attacker.

A third hour passed, and all they knew about the man was that he was a white male of Russian descent, approximately 5foot 10inches tall, with matted hair, and a wonky nose. The man also had flame tattoos on his knuckles and used a hunting knife as a weapon.

Harry noticed that the initial police questioner only asked the redhead about being chased once and did not ask again after Hayley's blatant denial of such an event. He guessed that the cops were only really interested in the mugger due to the possible connection with the Russian mob and street gangs. Plus, no one had witnessed Hayley being chased, it was only a deduction made due to her injured feet. There wasn't enough evidence to suggest any sort of organised stalking attack, especially since she wouldn't corroborate with that angle. Therefore the interview focused solely on the opportunistic Russian mugger.

Having been stood for a little over three hours, Harry was starting to loose the will to live. It had been horrible having to watch his girl crying silently when she was forced to remember that night. The cops had wanted specifics, immense detail, so they next brought in a profiler to help her properly recall her ordeal.

* * *

"Please, I can't do this anymore, I don't want to remember it," Hayley groaned, head in her hands as she sat hunched over the table directly before her.

They had been going at it for what seemed like an entire day!

She was seated on a soft chair in a brightly lit interview room, with a metal table between herself and the profiler. The walls were a stark plaster grey and the air was cool to match the almost militant like room. On the wall directly in front of her was a large mirror – she had seen enough cop shows to know that there were people behind it watching her every move. Her only real thought was wondering where Harry was during all this.

"Try and imagine the alley, close your eyes and remember the way it smelt, the cool air, the feel of your environment," implored the profiler, who had replaced the initial police questioner. The older man was Italian, though he's accent was distinctly American, and he had salt and pepper coloured hair. "Now, tell me what you see."

"I see light," Hayley recalled, her eyes fidgeting behind their closed lids, "I see the corner shop were I get my noodles…"

"Where are you?" the profiler, Joe Gibson, asked.

"…I'm on the ground…there's trash everywhere…I can feel blood on my chin…"

"You're doing great, Miss Carmichael, stay in the moment," encouraged Gibson, "What happens next?"

"…Footsteps, I hear footsteps…I stand and I-I-I think he's behind me…I turn, I start to say…I say…"

"This is good, keep focused now," the profiler urged, desperate to reveal more information than the police had. "What did you say to the man?"

"…I say…I really don't want to…AHHHH!" Hayley shrieked, clutching at her head, her eyes clamped shut. "I can't do this, please, make it stop!"

"You're safe, Miss Carmichael, no one can hurt you here." Gibson glanced back to the one-way mirror for a moment before continuing, "What does your attacker do next?"

Leaping up from her chair, Hayley flung herself to the ground, before shuffling backwards until her back hit the wall behind. All the while, her eyes remained closed.

"…There's a knife at my throat, and he's hissing at me to be quiet, "Don't you fucking scream or I'll kill you,"" she yelled, clutching at her neck as if she could see the mugger before her. "…He's going to kill me, he's going to kill me!"

Following her lead, Gibson stood and walked over to her, kneeling beside the shaking redhead. "You don't have to keep going if it's too painful for you, we can stop."

"…I can feel my heart, I can feel the knife cutting at my skin, those knuckles, the fire…he reaches behind my neck, I'm so scared, please don't kiss me, please don't hurt me…so light, a weight is lifted, it's gone! He's taken it! Give me them back! You can't have them, Harry gave them to me, please give them back!"

Gibson looked over to the mirror again, his face full of concern. He had never seen someone react so strongly to the mental recall technique, and it had him worried. The girl was shaking, tears streaming down her face, and the profiler felt powerless – only she could stop this. It was out of his hands, and he daren't touch her in case she saw him as the mugger.

"…He's laughing at me…how dare he laugh! How dare he!" Hayley screamed in anger, banging her fists on the hard ground. "I can see the emeralds, I can see them! I go to grab them and he swipes at my hands…it hurts, there's blood, my hands hurt! He's going to kill me…I'm going to die!"

"Miss Carmichael, can you hear me? You are in a safe place and he cannot hurt you here," Gibson spoke strongly, trying to keep his voice calm, praying for the girl to hear him. "You are in the police station. You are not alone, I am here with you. You are safe. You can stop now!"

"…He's laughing again! I look him dead in the eye, I want to see his face, but it's so dark…I tighten my grip on my handbag and swing it at his face…I feel wet, he's spat in my face and his fist hits me…then black, all I see is black…"

The door into the interview room opened with a bang and Harry raced towards the profiler and the crying redhead on the floor. Feeling powerless and watching her so distressed was agony. He couldn't stand to be stuck behind that glass, a mere spectator, another minute longer!

"Can't you make her stop?" he hissed at Gibson, throwing a protective arm around Hayley. She was shaking like an earthquake was beneath her.

"Only she can stop reliving the memory. There is nothing I can physically do – she has the power to stop. The best we can do is let her recount it all until she is ready to finish, and keep her from hurting herself in the process!" Gibson advised, really at a loss of how to help her.

"…I'm so weak! I have to be strong like Harry, I can't die here, I have to stay for him…but it's so dark and so cold, my eyes are so heavy…" Hayley continued to wail, hitting her head against the wall until Harry's hand acted as a cushion to prevent injury. "…I hear a voice…the mugger runs away, I'm safe! The voice…I know that voice…he came to save me…he came back for me! I knew he didn't hate me…I'm so sorry I ran, but I had too…I'm so tired, all I want is to sleep…

Harry winced slightly as she repeatedly whacked his hand with her head. "Who is she talking about?"

"You maybe?" the profiler replied, his eyes flicking between the pair, the cogs in his brain whirring. "Or maybe she means the man who called the emergency services? He didn't leave a name. Mr Osborn, I want you to try and rouse her from this yourself."

Harry had absolutely no idea how he could help and was about to say so to the profiler, but then Hayley started to scream. An ear-splitting, soul-destroying screech emanated from her frowned lips, its piercing decibel causing both men to recoil.

On his knees, Harry looked at the older man and spoke loudly to be heard over the screaming, "WHAT SHOULD I DO?"

"TALK TO HER! LET HER HEAR YOUR VOICE! CALM HER DOWN!"

He nodded and moved closer to her. "HAYLEY! STOP SCREAMING! YOU ARE SAFE. I'M HERE. IT'S HARRY"

"…It's so dark…then black…all I see is black…I am the shadow…you are the dark…you are the dark…"

_Why does that sound so familiar?_ Harry thought.

"HAYLEY! IT'S HARRY. IT'S HARRY!"

Upon exclaiming his name, Harry felt her stop shaking. Her incessant screaming ceased. She lifted her head and opened her eyes, blinking rapidly in the too bright light.

"Harry?"

"Yes," he breathed, relief washing over him. "It's me."

"_Welcome back to the bonus round Ginge!"_ the Goblin said lightly to Harry, a reminder to them both of what it felt like to have power over Donald Menken's life. They would have the same power in taking the mugger's life, and they would make him bleed!

Hayley leaped into Harry's arms, knocking them both over so that they were practically lying on the cold grey floor.

"Mr Osborn, if you wouldn't mind taking Miss Carmichael over to the table," Captain Sims asked seriously, his presence having gone unnoticed to them all since he had entered silently during the screaming. He held a manila folder in the crook of his arm.

Joe Gibson stood and brushed off the dirt from his silk suit trousers. Then he went to stand over by the Captain as they watched Harry led the distraught redhead to the metal table, coaxing her to sit on the chair.

"How did you know that would work?" Captain Sims whispered to the profiler, "Getting Mr Osborn to talk to her, I mean."

"The body language between the pair suggests a close and personal relationship, more than plutonic, romantic even," Gibson replied quietly, "The familiarity of his voice seemed the only plausible route to exploit. Besides, mine wasn't doing jack shit."

Sims marched forward, opening the folder as he went. "Now, Miss Carmichael, we have compiled some photographs of criminals matching the description you gave and from the composite sketch. We would like you to look at these ten images and tell us if you see the face of your mugger," the Captain explained slowly as he sat down on the chair opposite Hayley and Harry. He began to gradually place down each image on the table, but noticed how the girl was only looking at the young billionaire. "If you could step away for a minute Mr Osborn, we don't want you to influence her choices," he said sternly.

Harry glared at the Captain, before squeezing Hayley's shoulder in reassurance and slowly strolling over to the mirror window. He leaned against the wall to the left of the cop, and stared at his reflection, patiently waiting for this to be over with.

When all the photographs were laid out, Hayley looked down, her eyes moving frantically, desperate to find her mugger so that she wouldn't have to be in the station any longer. Her breathing stopped and her heart rate began to soar as her emerald eyes connected with the brown sneering eyes of the man in image number seven. The attacker stared up at her, making Hayley want to run and hide all over again. She looked up at Captain Sims who motioned for her to show him which image was the correct one. With her whole arm trembling, she pressed her fingertip to the very edge of the photograph, not wanting to touch any part of the man's image.

"Andrei Kuzmin," Captain Sims confirmed. "He is a known criminal who specializes in petty theft. If I remember correctly, he was our lead suspect in a case similar to yours. He broke into your apartment complex a few months back, invading the home of a Miss Katie Royle. Do you remember? Kuzmin was wearing a balaclava during the attack, but Miss Royle identified the same flame tattoos that you did before she was knocked unconscious. He has been on our radar for some time."

Hayley nodded, remembering that that was the night she discovered her prescription medicine in her postal locker. That was when she discovered that it had been Harry who had paid for her drugs, not Peter. She glanced over to where he was standing and watched him type something on his cell phone.

_He's probably texting the chauffer to bring the Sedan back to the NYPD now that we've almost finished, _Hayley thought with a small smile on her face, thankful that they would be leaving soon.

Harry was indeed texting his chauffer, but he also sent another more simple text to Kraven, which read: _Check Rhino's men – Kuzmin, Andrei_.

His hands were shaking whilst he furiously typed out the short message. When he pressed send, Harry looked up to stare at his reflection, watching as his irises went from ice blue to green and back again. It was fascinating to watch them change as he could feel the Goblin itching to break loose now that they had the name of Hayley's attacker.

He barely heard the cops leave until he felt a soft hand tug on his arm.

"Come on Harry, let's go home."

* * *

Hayley stayed silent as they walked out of the NYPD and into the Sedan. She remained quiet when she realised that they weren't going straight back to Osborn Manor. She held her tongue when she saw her favourite corner shop. She refused to make a sound when they entered her apartment complex, the charred remains of the adjacent building causing her to spill fresh tears. When they ascended the many flights of stairs to her apartment, she remained noiseless. As her keys entered the lock and the door opened, Hayley kept mute. But as soon as they were both stood inside her dumpy home and the door closed behind them, then, finally, she spoke.

"Why the hell have you brought me here? Are you fucking insane Harry?" Hayley yelled, hands on her hips, glaring at him as he sat comfy and relaxed on her threadbare sofa.

"Possibly, though it depends on your diagnosis," he smiled, the corners of this lips turned up at his witty pun. He could tell that she wasn't in the mood for games, but it was so much fun to tease her.

"Wipe that cheeky smirk of your face! How dare you do this to me? After what I've just been through, you bring me here? Of all the fucking places to take me! When I said that we should go home, I meant _your _home, not mine!"

"Technically, this is not your home anymore," Harry said seriously looking at his nails nonchalantly. "We are here to pack up your possessions so that you can be more comfortable back at mine. You did ask to move in, did you not?"

Hayley breathed in and out deeply, trying to gain control of her anger. "Yes."

"Exactly. I thought it would be better to do this before the media gets wind of my early release and before your mugging is made public," explained Harry slowly, hand going to his scarf as he spoke. "Reporters will be crawling all over us. It made sense to do this now."

Hayley stared at him, wanting to kiss away that knowing smirk – why did he always have to be right? And how was it that he made her feel like kissing and punching him at the same time?

She sighed heavily, her pent up anger vanishing. "Fine. You are forgiven, but only because you're you. If anyone else had tried this, I would beat the shit out of them," she proclaimed with a grin, though it faltered slightly when she noticed Harry scratching the wound hidden beneath his scarf. "So yeah, this is, _was, _my home. Sorry for the mess. I'll go get some boxes."

Rushing to her bedroom to retrieve a few cardboard boxes, Hayley suddenly felt embarrassed to have Harry in her home. Compared to the opulence of Osborn Manor, her apartment looked diseased and horribly plain. She was so used to seeing works of art and mahogany walls that her own room appeared strangely quaint and old. Visiting her home like this was bizarrely grounding – it reminded her of where she had come from.

If Harry had ever felt uncomfortable or unimpressed by her poor excuse of a home, the polar opposite of wealth, then he did not say. Instead he chatted away to her about random things, trying to keep her mind free from dwelling too much on the morning's events.

They packed up her belongings fairly quickly, mainly because she had very little to begin with. Her suitcase fitted all of her clothes and shoes, while two boxes held all her books, and they filled another box with her knickknacks and photo frames. She decided to leave her kitchenware since she wouldn't have any need for it living in the manor. Harry stopped her from packing her beloved Pot Noodles, saying that he would make Connelly throw them away if she did pack them.

"All this medication cannot be for you," Harry commented as he opened a cabinet in her bathroom.

Hayley poked her head round the door, looking at him sitting on her bathroom floor, a brown cardboard box in his lap. He had surrounded himself in miniature boxes and bottles of pills and tubes of her burn ointment. The sight of seeing him so domestic almost made her laugh.

Flipping his bangs away, Harry turned around where he sat and held up a pill bottle. "Some of these don't even have your name or patient information on," he said staring at her, his eyebrow raised, silently demanding an explanation.

"Um, yeah, that's because I sort of, you know, borrowed them," Hayley admitted sheepishly.

"Borrowed?"

"Yes. I borrowed them, and, er, kept them."

"You stole all of this?" Harry exclaimed, gesturing to the huge piles of pills around him. You could see more medication than tiles on the floor.

Hayley sighed, knowing that her reasoning wasn't exactly a justification for stealing. "I couldn't afford to buy my prescriptions after my Grandma died," she explained quietly, sitting on the cracked tiled floor opposite Harry. "I needed the medication desperately. I was battling my depression and trying to prevent my PTSD from returning. I didn't have a choice. I had no money. And the little I did have went straight to rent and bills. I stole them from the inventory at Ravencroft. It was the only place that I was able to take the medication safely and without anyone noticing. Stealing was my only option."

Reaching out, Harry took her hand and held it, showing her that he understood.

"Ravencroft has so much surplus medication anyway, because they fail to provide proper medical care for the inmates. All the tablets I gave you during your stay," Hayley said simply, her eyes meeting Harry's, "I stole."

"Excuse me?"

"_Ginge is a right little criminal," _the Goblin mused to Harry, "_Who would have thought!" _

"I had to do something! You were suffering in there. Besides, I think Manners knew, and that's why he continued your medication when I was no longer treating you. How he found out and got the correct pills and dosage, I don't know," Hayley recalled, shaking her head. "That's why it's important that you take all your nightly medication – those tablets are what saved you."

"No, Hayley, you saved me."

A poignant silence stretched between them. They both knew that in meeting each other they had also saved one another.

Hayley was the first to break the silence.

Taking the medium brown box from his lap, she placed it between them. Then she started to fill it with all the multi coloured boxes and pill strips. Harry followed suit, and they both packed the box slowly.

"So," Harry said innocently, unable to keep his signature smirk from playing across his lips. "This bucket list of yours…talk me through it."

For a moment, she had absolutely no idea what he was talking about, but then she remembered their conversation last night. "Erm, well I'd love to visit Venice, get a tattoo, own a cat, erm, go to Coney Island – "

"What? You've never been to Coney Island?"

"No. I spent most of my life in England remember?" said Hayley shaking her head, her plait swaying like a horse's tail. "Anyway, I guess the other thing on my list would be to meet Spider-Man."

Harry paused his pill packing actions, his whole body going rigid at the mention of the arachnid vigilante. "And why would you want to do that?" he growled, a flash of anger evident in his voice.

"So I can punch him in the face for leaving you to take the blame for Gwen's death!"

"Oh."

"Why else would I actually want to meet him?"

He ignored her question. "I meant, tell me what's on your list to do with me."

"Erm, I haven't really thought about it."

"Shame. I have."

"Oh, er, really?" Hayley giggled nervously, the dark and lustful look in those icy blues suddenly making her mouth go dry. "Fine, where do I fit on the great Harry Osborn's list?"

He looked at her seriously. "It would make you blush from head to toe if I told you – plus, where's the fun in that when I could just as easily make you blush by touching you?"

Another long intense silence stretched between them.

"Ok, on my list, erm, I guess, maybe a date?"

Harry raised his eyebrows.

"Not that we have…I mean, we might not be…but then I thought because…you know? And I told you that…I…but don't worry…erm yes! No, I mean no! Maybe?"

"Hayley, I told you I loved you, you've slept in my bed for the past three nights, and now you're moving into my home. I think it's safe to say you're my lady."

A heavy blush appeared across her chest and Hayley stood, a huge smile on her face. Then she dashed into the lounge, and that was the last Harry saw of her while he finished packing up her stolen medication.

* * *

The last box of books was nearly full and Hayley picked up the notebook that she'd written all her notes from Ravencroft in. A small white rectangle fell from between the pages, and Hayley bent down to pick it up, her eyes glancing over the neatly typed letters.

_Dr. Emily Baker_

_Board Certified Psychiatrist_

_Adult and Adolescent Psychiatry_

_Hours By Appointment Only_

Beneath the little blurb were the woman's practise address, email, and contact information.

Hayley drew in a sharp breath. She remembered that Manners had given her the business card when she read over the contract he sneakily made her sign. For some reason she had kept the card, just in case of a future event where the Goblin psychosis got out of control.

Her first instinct now was to throw the card away. But a little voice at the back of mind told her otherwise, that one day she would need the services of Doctor Baker. The business card also made her feel guilty. Hayley realised that she had neglected to keep up with her twice-weekly mandatory counselling sessions with Harry. They had only probably done about three in the first few weeks after he had been released. She had managed to maintain the thrice-daily check ups, despite his grumbling and groaning. But whenever she had tried to initiate a session, Harry always seemed to be busy or have a meeting or they would both get sidetracked.

_Maybe keeping the card is a good idea, just in case, _Hayley reasoned with herself as she placed it firmly back into the notebook.

She looked over to where Harry was standing in the bathroom, the full and neatly packaged box at his feet. Hayley could see that he was staring at his reflection intently, almost in the same manner as he had done the other night during his sleepwalking episode.

Patting the notebook, she finished packing the box before her, all the while thinking about the business card. She had a strange feeling that she might have to call on this Emily Baker for assistance – it was only a matter of when.

* * *

It was well into the afternoon when they returned from her apartment to Osborn Manor.

All Hayley's boxes were put into the room adjoining the bathroom that led into Harry's bedroom. Her clothes were unpacked and placed in the wooden wardrobe and drawers, photographs and candles on the dresser. The cardboard box of medication sat in the shared bathroom – the broken mirror had been swept up and replaced whilst they were out.

They were in the spare room and Hayley had just finished unpacking her books into one of the ceiling high bookshelves. It looked very sparse since she only had about thirty books, but the room was starting feel more like home.

"Where are you putting that?" Harry asked pointing to the clothes in her hands. He was leaning against the doorway, watching Hayley scurrying around, making the place her own.

"What? My pyjamas?" Hayley asked, a hint of confusion in her voice.

Harry nodded.

Gesturing to the reasonably sized well kempt bed on her left, she said, "I was going to put them under my pillow."

"Your bed is through there," he replied, using his thumb to point behind him, back through to his room. "It wouldn't make sense to mess with a good thing now, would it?"

Blushing, Hayley hurried past him, through the bathroom and into his bedroom. Harry followed her, watching the way she walked, unknowingly sashaying her tiny hips. It was interesting how she tentatively pulled back the pillow on his bed, almost as if that by putting her clothes there, it meant that they were officially an item. Seeing her in his room was sending Harry into a sexually frustrated frenzy, since she was usually asleep when he finally retired to his bed.

"_To think, you've had Ginge sleep in your bed three times, and you haven't even had sex with her yet!" _the Goblin exclaimed to Harry, "_I can't stand much more of this waiting Harry! Next time you're both in bed, grab her and rock her world!"_

Having Hayley living with him and sleeping in his bed was probably going to be the death of him. It wasn't that it was a bad idea, it was what Harry had intended since the Goblin had first broken her fingers. The thing that would kill him would be a man, and by a man, he meant his lawyer.

"Manners is going to have a hernia when he finds out," Harry mumbled to himself, eyes gliding of the curve of her bottom.

"_More like a heart attack," _the Goblin tittered, appreciating the view, "_That's if we don't die of frustration first!"_

Hayley turned, catching the predatory look in his piercing blue eyes, a lust filled smirk on his face. He gestured for her to come closer, which she did, wrapping her arms around his neck. Immediately, Harry captured her lips in one of those passionate and intense kisses, making her melt against him instantly. He playfully rubbed his hands up and down her back, the Goblin goading him to take things further.

When he ventured south and began to kiss her neck, Hayley's eyes landed on the box of medication in the bathroom. It reminded her of the psychiatrist's business card, and then the feelings of guilt started to creep back in.

"So, are you really going back to OsCorp tomorrow?"

"_I don't believe this!" _wailed the Goblin in Harry's mind.

"Yes."

"Both of us?"

"Indeed," he replied, squeezing her body closer to him in an attempt to show her were this was headed.

"You know, I was thinking, that it's going to be difficult fitting in your therapy sessions whilst you're working at OsCorp," Hayley tried to explain rationally, "Maybe we should do them in the evening…we could do one tonight?"

"_Talk about that for a mood killer."_

"Can't. We're going out," Harry said a little too happily, trying not to show how frustrated and pent up he was.

"Out?"

"It's my last night of freedom and I think we should celebrate. You could call it a date."

* * *

Harry had taken her to China Town to experience some strange and wonderful food. It felt amazing to Hayley to be holding hands with him, acting like a real couple. Seeing him free, out and about in Manhattan, was everything they had been working towards. No one recognised them and they were able to walk in the streets without any trouble, though Pete and James followed close behind.

The evening air was cool and Harry had worn a thick cashmere scarf and his grey woollen coat. He also wore a crisp white shirt and tie since going out for dinner was to be their first date. It seemed a little trivial to Harry, especially since she was now living with him, so their relationship had gone way past the need for proper dating protocol. But the gleam in her emerald eyes and the shining smile on Hayley's face made it worthwhile. Plus, it would be last time he'd be able to walk around outside without reporters snapping pictures of his every move.

Hayley had even dressed up for the occasion. Underneath her caramel coat she wore a long-sleeved black skater dress that was a little too short for her liking. Which is why her legs were covered in woolly knee-high socks. She'd un-plaited her hair, letting her long auburn kinked ponytail tumble in the breeze.

As they strolled past a large shop window, she caught a glimpse of their reflection – Harry looked like a movie star and she an adult version of orphan Annie. When she informed him of this, he wrapped his arm around her and said that she was too old to play Annie.

"Besides, if I really wanted to look like a movie star, I'd use these," Harry smirked, plucking a pair of Ray-Bans out of his coat pocket and placing them over his eyes.

The fact that he was now wearing sunglasses at night, made Hayley howl with laughter and she teased him incessantly. It didn't help matters that he said he wore sunglasses all the time, even at night, to stop people from recognising him. She wasn't sure why she found it funny but she did. And the only thing that prevented her laughter was when Harry suddenly grabbed her and started kissing her in the middle of the busy streets. At first it had shocked her that Harry would be so affectionate in public but as soon as she looked up at him and saw those designer sunglasses, it set her off giggling again.

They carried on in this fashion, laugh, kiss, laugh, kiss, until they finally found a place to eat. They were hunting for the place down the tiny side streets of China Town, the walkways decorated with red and gold banners and Chinese paper dragons. It was a very specific restaurant that Harry wanted to visit. Apparently it was on some list of top restaurants and was described as one of New York's hidden gems. When they finally found the place, it didn't look like much but Harry swore by credibility of this list.

Red and yellow Chinese paper lanterns were hanging around the restaurant, which was filled with round wooden tables and chairs, covered by red tablecloths. Each table had a candle in the centre and all the food was brought in on blue and white patterned china and small wicker baskets. After sitting opposite each other at their own little table near the back, even Hayley had to admit that it really was romantic.

"So, what is this stuff? I've nearly finished eating, and I still don't know what it is," she asked, gesturing to the empty bowls and baskets that were stacked up on their reclusive table.

"It's Dim Sum."

"You really like making me eat weird food, don't you?" Hayley stated, bringing the last of her dumplings up to her lips.

"I thought you needed educating in real food since you only eat Pot Noodles," Harry replied simply, smirking as the pork dumpling fell off her chopsticks and landed back onto her plate.

"HA! You are _so_ funny Harry," she said sarcastically, rolling her eyes as she speared the insolent dumpling and popped it into her mouth. "You know, I think I prefer this better than shawarma. I like it here, it's nice. It reminds me of a place Gwen told me about once." Hayley looked around taking in the features of tiny restaurant. "In fact, I think this _is_ the place Gwen told me about. I remember now! It was the evening of graduation and she had just dumped Peter Pa – "

Harry's fist landed hard on the table top making their chopsticks and bowls jump from the impact. "I don't want to hear his name! Ever! He betrayed me, Hayley, don't you forget that!"

"Yes, I know, but how –"

"Do. Not. Ruin. This!" Harry hissed, standing suddenly. "I'm going to pay the bill, and when I get back, I do not want to hear _anything_ more about _Parker_. Do. You. Understand?"

Hayley nodded, biting her lip as she stared up at him.

"Good," he sneered, shoving his chair closer to the table before stalking angrily away from her.

"What the fuck was that?" she whispered to herself.

She glanced over to where Harry was paying for their food, and could tell from his body language that he was furious. Her mind went back to thinking about this great betrayal between the two friends. There was no way she was ever going to be able to ask Harry, especially if he lost it every time she mentioned Peter's name.

"Hayley!"

Standing from the table, she rushed over to Harry who had his arms folded, waiting impatiently. He grabbed at her hand and they walked very fast out of the restaurant and down the street. Behind, Hayley could hear the bodyguards, Pete and James, jogging to keep up with their fast pace.

After a good ten minutes of total uncomfortable silence, Hayley decided to try and make peace. "Harry, look, I'm really sorry I mentioned – "

"LOOK! It's Spider-Man!"

"Mummy look, it's him! Hi Spider-Man!" cried out a young boy.

"Spider-Man! We love you!"

All around them, people stopped and pointed up to the dark sky, all the while shouting and cheering. The masked vigilante swung from building to building above the busy street. The man's red and blue suited body flew through the air, and even Hayley could admit that he looked amazing. It was the first time she had seen him in real life and not on a television screen. She mirrored everyone surrounding her, following Spider-Man's aerial actions with her eyes while her mouth opened in shock and awe.

A sudden and unpleasantly painful feeling had her eyes break away from the masked man and look down. Harry's hand was clenching around her fingers, hard. She ignored the excruciating pain and quickly glanced up to see his face.

Harry's mouth was in a tight line, brows furrowed in intense anger, face as hard as stone. And those eyes, those haunting green speckled eyes, were trained on Spider-Man like a gun on its target.

"I am the shadow. You are the dark. You will always be longing for me to begin spiralling downward," Harry muttered furiously though gritted teeth, before squeezing his hand until he heard a very satisfying snap.

* * *

**As one of my reviewers, Cassie-D1, so wonderfully put it – yes, Harry does have a major case of "painful blue balls by now." Poor Harry! **

**Don't worry Guestling, there will be a detailed smut, I definitely wouldn't keep teasing you guys if I wasn't going that write the end game (sexy time) fully detailed :P **

**And to Kayla, thank you for your kind words, and I hope you and your brother continue to enjoy my fic! Love to you hun!**

**Also, I heard that there are a lot of countries that are in the middle of exam season? My love to you guys, keep studying and kill those exams! **

**Keep being amazing my wonderful readers! Much Love XXX**

**P.S. Sorry if the last few chaps have seemed a tad filler, my apologies, I hope I'm not loosing you guys - I'm building up to something!**


	24. Chapter 24

**Featured song**: _Wild World_ (Cat Stevens cover) – Denmark + Winter

* * *

**I do not own Spider-Man, The Amazing Spider-Man 2 movie, or anything related to the Marvel franchise etc. – you all know the drill!**

* * *

"Now, from the X-ray, you can see that two fingers are broken. Both have an oblique fracture in the articular bone," explained the senior registrar from orthopaedics, a rather stern Doctor Aldington. "I've also identified old fractures in your fingers. One of those breaks has significantly weakened the finger, hence why it broke so easily this time." He paused and pointed out the fracture lines on the black and white translucent X-ray. "Remind me of the cause again?"

"I shut them in a door."

The doctor appraised the redhead and his brows rose, clearly not believing her weak lie.

"The door is solid mahogany, so it's really heavy," Hayley added whilst fiddling with her ponytail using her good hand. It was a nervous habit of hers she did during stressful times.

She was sitting on a bed in the A&amp;E department of the local hospital. The room she was in was little and square, only housing enough space for a small desk, four chairs, a light box that was fixed to the wall, and the bed. The walls were painted cream but appeared sickly yellow under the cheap strobe lights. Hayley could smell sterile cleaning products, which made her stomach churn - she really hated hospitals.

"May I ask_ how _you broken them previously?"

Unconsciously, Hayley glanced to the corner of the room where Harry was standing broodily. "I…erm…I…When I was working at Ravencroft, one of the inmates attacked me…" she tailed off, not wanting to go into further detail unless the doctor asked.

"I see," Doctor Aldington said steadily, his beady eyes flicking between the two youngsters. "You will need to have your fingers in plaster for a few weeks before we switch to splints. I will fetch one of the on duty nurses to do that for you."

The doctor walked out closing the door, leaving Hayley alone with the man who was responsible for her broken fingers.

She wasn't entirely clear what had happened. One minute she was observing Harry's eyes change, her breath momentarily stopping when she realised something bad might happen. Then the next minute, something bad _did _happen…to her. As soon as she opened her mouth to scream, Harry's eyes shifted from up in the air and down to her. He had grabbed her face and forced her into a rough kiss, swallowing the sound of her muffled screech. Then he gripped her arm and hurried them both down the street and into the car.

That was all she could really remember. No doubt the pain shooting up her arm had caused her to go into a state of delirium. Once they were in the Sedan, she could only hear loud muffled voices and make out shadowed movement as her vision swam. The rhythm of the car was like a gentle lullaby rocking her to sleep. The journey to the hospital was a dream, with the lights of New York making it seem like a magical blur.

She had fainted, or so the doctor had informed her before she had her hand X-rayed.

Glancing over to where Harry stood, Hayley was relieved to see piercing blue eyes glaring back at her. An angry Harry was better than an angry Goblin. He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, with his brow furrowed. The bandage covering the wound on his neck was peeping out from beneath his designer scarf. His neck looked red raw where he had obviously been scratching at the dressing. The shirt and tie he was wearing had been loosened and his grey coat had vanished. In fact, Hayley's own coat appeared to be missing also.

_The coats are probably in the car,_ she thought, _and where the hell are the two bodyguards? _

Harry had his hands stuffed into his jeans pockets, and with the glowering look on his face it made him appear every bit of a pissed off twenty year old. Why he was so angry, she had no idea, but it couldn't be good.

"So, apparently, your fingers broke when you shut them in a door? The bit about the mahogany was a nice touch," Harry chuckled, pushing himself off the wall to saunter over to her. "But, if you're going to keep using that lie, "he spoke calmly, revelling in the way she shrank away from him as he lifted a hand to her face, "You'll need to make it more believable."

Hayley swallowed, her mouth suddenly going bone dry. On closer inspection, she could pinpoint a few remaining speckles of green shining in his narrowed eyes.

He stared down at her, both hands now cradling her trembling face. "Why did you lie?"

"I-Ha-I – "

"No, no, shhh now, shhh," Harry coaxed, "Why?"

"Because you didn't mean to?" she said slowly, her answer coming out as question rather than a strong statement – she was too afraid that this was a test.

"Did I not?"

"No," Hayley replied, her eyes finding his steadily, "The Goblin hurt me."

Harry pulled away from her, beginning pace manically around the small room as he spoke. "See? This is why I like you! You always seem so sure of yourself, so sure of everything! Why can't more people be as insightful as you?"

She had the distinct feeling that he was mocking her. The way he spoke, calm and slow but with an air of arrogant power, suggested that he wasn't taking her assessment seriously. His usual charismatic personality seemed to be amplified ten fold in such a small space, and he patrolled the room like he owned it.

"Harry, it's ok – "

"No! No, it is not ok!"

"You shouldn't blame yourself, it's not your fault."

"Who _ever_ said it was my fault?"

The hairs on the back of her neck pricked up as she tried to suppress a shudder. "It-it's not?"

"This," he growled with complete and utter certainty on his face, "This is Spider-Man's fault!"

Hayley didn't know what to say; she was speechless.

Fortunately she didn't have to say anything, because the doctor and a nurse walked briskly into the room.

The nurse had long brown hair that cascaded down past her shoulders in a wispy fashion. Her older face was weathered and worn with many creased smile lines. She seemed like a kind and caring nurse, very motherly and protective. The warm smile on her face spoke volumes of her kind-hearted personality. Hayley thought that the nurse was the personification of everything she had ever wanted in a mother.

"Mr Osborn, Miss Carmichael, this is Nurse May, she will be putting your cast on today," the doctor spoke hurriedly as he flicked through a clipboard of papers. "I'll come back to give you a final once over before you can go. If you'll excuse me, I have other patients to see to."

And as quickly as he had come, Doctor Aldington left the room.

The energy in room spiked again, and Hayley cast her eyes back to the corner where Harry had retreated to. The nurse initially had her back to him, so only Hayley could see the hardness in his face, the murderous glare he was giving the kind woman. As she turned, Harry reigned in his frostiness, but only a little.

"Oh, Harry! How wonderful it is to see you again," the nurse gushed, clasping her hands together in happiness. "Now, the last time I saw you, you were such a little thing. I remember how you and Peter used to play out in the yard – "

Upon hearing his old friend's name, Harry blinked, his eyes seemed to glow and his posture became rigid. It all happened within a millisecond and it was fortunate that the nurse had momentarily turned back to Hayley when his green hostility returned.

"Hey, um, Harry," Hayley quickly interrupted, "Why don't you go grab me a soda? A diet soda, please, Harry! Now!"

Harry scowled at her orders but nodded and stalked out the room, banging the door closed behind him.

"He's like a whirling dervish! Always stomping around, just like his father," the older nurse said gently.

"So, um, you know Peter? Peter Parker?"

"Yes, yes, I'm his aunt."

* * *

Hayley was lying in their bed, practically hanging off the side. The cast on her fingers felt heavy and uncomfortable. It had taken her so much longer than usual to get undressed and then dressed again into her pyjamas. Who would have thought that having two fingers out of action would make a big difference in carrying out everyday things? It had been so much easier when they had been broken before. However, the doctor had said that the bones were too damaged to use only splints this time, hence why she now had a cast.

It was pretty late when they'd got back because of having to wait in A&amp;E so long. She had gone straight to bed, whilst Harry had stormed off somewhere. They didn't speak during the ride home. Hayley knew that he was secretly upset that he had caused her harm. He couldn't completely blame this on Spider-Man could he?

The bedroom door opened and she stayed quiet, hidden under the covers while he went about his nightly routine in the dark.

Just as her lids fluttered closed, the bathroom door slammed shut, rousing her from the hazy pull of slumber. Hayley could hear the soft padding of his feet on the wooden floor, and felt the bed dip as he slid in next to her. She could also smell the faint scent of whiskey. Holding her breath, she waited patiently for something, anything to happen.

But there was nothing, just the distinct sensation of his soul capturing eyes staring at the back of her head.

Her heart was hammering in her chest, though she didn't really know why. She tried to control her breathing, matching it to his. All Hayley wanted was to rewind the evening back to the restaurant, back to before she mentioned Peter Parker. This secret, this betrayal between the two, was beginning to become unbearable for her. It was affecting her life, and she didn't even know what _it _was!

It was as if a switch had been flicked, making Harry's rage instantaneously infest his body. To have such a short fuse could be extremely dangerous, especially as he appeared to be loosing the task of keeping his anger, the Goblin, under control.

Those words, that three line phrase about the shadows and darkness was playing on repeat in her head. It occurred just before the bones in her fingers started to splinter and crack. It was really the first act of violence she had seen from Harry since he had been released from Ravencroft. It had rattled her more than she wanted to admit.

When his arm snaked around her stomach and he began to pull her closer, Hayley let him, thinking it better to go with the flow. His fingers made little swirling patterns on her skin, tracing around her belly button and above the hem of her sleep leggings. It wasn't a sexual touch, more of a hesitant exploration. It acted as a reminder of how compassionate and gentle he could be.

"Hayley, you awake?" Harry whispered into her ear, his lips brushing over the soft skin of lobe.

"Mmmmm," she hummed in a drowsy response, feeling all her worries disappear with each velvety touch.

He breathed in and out deeply, and relaxed his body as her own moulded into his. Then Harry reached out, taking his hand off her body. She pouted in the dark and made a little noise at the abrupt departure of his warm hand. Hayley could feel that cheeky smirk of his against her cheek and she sighed, happy to have the real Harry Osborn back.

Then his outstretched hand searched around under the covers. Hayley's stomach flipped and she tensed when his hand enclosed around the cast on her fingers.

"I'm sorry, "Harry sighed sadly, running his thumb over the hard and scratchy cast.

"I know."

"Never mention Parker in my presence again. I won't be able to control myself if you do. Do you understand?"

Hayley nodded, the back of her head rubbing over his lips and nose.

He pressed a long kiss on her auburn hair and brought her even closer into his chest in a possessive hug. "That's my girl."

Later, when she was certain that Harry was asleep, Hayley let her mind ponder over what he had said. It was strange that he had told her not to mention Peter, when in fact it was Spider-Man's presence that had been the catalyst for her broken fingers. She had no idea what that meant but put it down to the Goblin's irrational anger for the spider overtaking Harry's hatred for Peter.

_When did life get so complicated?_ she thought, running her fingers through Harry's soft and rumpled hair.

* * *

Harry had warned her that his first day back at OsCorp was going to be awkward and chaotic, but she didn't think it was going to be _that _awkward and chaotic.

When they were getting dressed that morning, he had informed Hayley that they needed to dress up since there were bound to be a lot press and reporters outside of OsCorp.

Harry was wearing a grey suit that shone silver in the light, with a black shirt and slim black tie. Even his shoes gleamed. The same paisley scarf that she'd seen him wear countless times before was fixed firmly around his neck. Its placement seemed odd to Hayley but she didn't comment on it. His hair was combed to perfection - she had never seen him look so polished and authoritative.

It was quite a sight to see him walking down the marble steps in the foyer of his home. Hayley felt something stir within her; she wanted this man more than she had ever wanted anyone before. He was everything to her. And as he stepped off the last step, Hayley wanted to show how much she needed him, she wanted to kiss those amazing…

"Is that what you're wearing?"

Hayley looked down at her own clothes; a black polo neck with long sleeves, her tight jersey knee length black skirt, and a slim green blazer that she had stolen from Harry's wardrobe when he was in the shower.

"Um…I…um…yes. Are they not…are they…um…it's all I have."

"I guess you'll do," Harry sighed glancing at his Rolex, "You can keep my blazer, you look good in green. But we really need to get you some better clothes."

_Did he just insult me, compliment me, and then insult me again? _Hayley thought furiously, not having any time to give his comment proper contemplation since he had started to lead her out to the car.

* * *

His return to OsCorp was breaking news on every major TV station and newspaper that morning. Which was why Hayley wasn't surprised to see a throng of reporters outside the magnificent skyscraper, just like Harry had warned.

The golden revolving door, the only entrance into OsCorp, was so surrounded by people that you could barely see it.

There were an additional ten guards standing on watch outside instead of the usual two, along with twenty cops and a couple of patrol cars. All the reporters, photographers and journalists were kept behind a barrier of metal fencing, the type that was used at concerts.

When they first rounded the corner in the Sedan, Hayley could see that the sea of people were still and quiet, ignoring all the normal OsCorp employees. However, as soon as one noticed the car, everyone went insane. A frenzy of movement and noise erupted, and she could hear the many shouts of her name and Harry's even from inside the car.

She didn't want to leave the safety of the car; she didn't want to face all those people. And as their vehicle came to a stop, Hayley turned towards Harry, hoping to get some support. He hadn't said a single word or even looked at her since leaving the house. It was like he was purposefully ignoring her.

Her breathing started to accelerate as she watched bodyguards James and Pete leave the car and make their way round to open the door for them.

"Harry, I'm scared."

Nothing.

"Harry," she pleaded, grabbing his hand, "Please, say something!"

"I am the shadow…you are the dark… "

"Harry! Now is not the time for that! I can't do this! I'm scared!" Hayley shrieked, practically hyperventilating as a clicking sound came from the car door handle.

"I am the shadow…you are the dark… "

A knock on the window from the outside was the signal from James that the door would open in ten seconds.

"Harry, please, I-I think I'm going to pass out, I can't do this!"

The door opened.

Harry gripped her hand firmly and stared into her eyes. "Sink or swim," he said, before sliding from the car and pulling her with him.

The noise outside the car was absolutely deafening.

* * *

They had to fight their way into OsCorp, with even James and Pete having trouble keeping the sharks at bay. But once there were inside the building, everyone could breathe a sigh of relief.

Every time she entered OsCorp tower, Hayley found herself adoring it more and more. The architecture was breath taking; everything was stripped back, with glass and steel giving an industrial and contemporary feel to the vast building. It reminded her of a very modern and very expensive Hogwarts. Sure, the skyscraper tall staircases didn't move and there were no ghosts in the toilets, but OsCorp was colossal and held many secrets. There were so many corridors and floors that she had never and probably would never be able explore them all. Hayley had only ever visited the employee dinner lounge, the floor where her science labs were, the women's toilets, and the ground floor bookstore.

The enormity of it all made her feel very small, but Hayley liked that she could be invisible and disappear into a sea of the hundreds or thousands of OsCorp employees.

However, today was different. Today, everyone saw her, everyone knew her, and, everyone was staring at her. Well, they were staring at Harry more, but it still freaked her out. So Hayley cast her anxious emerald eyes downward and focused on the honeycomb logo pattern that was on the white and grey marble floor. She tried to zone out and listened closely to K.A.R.I, the holographic blonde woman who was the artificial intelligence program that controlled the whole building.

As usual, she was informing all OsCorp employees of the latest business news:

"_OsCorp Industries is __proud to announce_ _the full restoration of Manhattan's electromagnetic power grid… Today marks the return of OsCorp Industries CEO, Harry Osborn…"_

Hayley suddenly felt pressure leave her hand and she realised that Harry had hastily let go of it. She glanced up at him and saw that he had his business face on. His jaw was rigid as was his posture, and he seemed to be surveying his surroundings with an air of superiority, like he owned the place. Which, he did of course.

Harry's eyes narrowed as an older man in an expensive grey suit moved towards him.

"Mr Osborn," spoke Donald Menken gracefully, clearly putting on a show, "On behalf of the OsCorp board and employees, I would like to welcome you back."

He held out his hand and Harry took it, their shaking of hands prompting a very stilted applause from all the surrounding people. The employees were staring at their returning CEO and the quiet redhead, some with fear, some with hate, and some with an emotion Hayley couldn't identify. The overall feeling was incredibly uncomfortable. All the unwanted attention reminded her of the two excited girls who had wanted her autograph. Except everyone here probably hated her and they certainly did not want her autograph.

"I trust I will see you at the ten o'clock meeting with the board?" Menken asked, the two men releasing hands like they had burned one another.

"Why, of course," Harry spoke eloquently, folding his arms to conceal his shaking hands, "I _am_ CEO, and that meeting _cannot_ happen without me."

The older man nodded and walked away, freeing up Harry's attention for another well-wisher to fill his place. A recognisable brunette stepped forward, a clipboard in hand, her radiant smile being the only genuine one in the entire building.

"Mr Osborn," greeted Felicia, handing her boss his morning latte. "If you would like to follow me sir, I'll take you through today's scheduled meetings."

Harry returned his secretary's smile with his own cheeky smirk, making Hayley feel completely invisible.

The three of them strode in silence to the elevators, their footsteps on the marble floor the only sound other than K.A.R.I. The OsCorp employees seemed to be waiting for their boss to enter the elevator and leave the ground floor before moving themselves.

As the elevator doors closed all three of them inside, Hayley vacantly watched the fifty display screens on the opposite wall. They showed the morning news, which, no surprise, focused on Harry's return to OsCorp. Some live footage was being shown from when they had entered the building only a mere ten minutes ago. She would never get used to seeing her face on television.

The elevator started to move after Felicia spoke the floor number. Down in the foyer, everyone had started to move and go about business as usual, though they constantly glanced up at the travelling glass box. It made Hayley so angry but she tried desperately to ignore the huge amount of people who were _still_ staring at them.

Harry let out a sigh of relief, his body relaxing ever so slightly, but not enough to crack his strong and stoic façade. "I see everything is back to its expensive glory," he said sarcastically.

"Yes, we had all the damage repaired," Felicia confirmed.

"I wonder how much all that cost? No doubt I paid for it, since it was me who destroyed it, right Felicia?" smirked Harry, giving his secretary a wink and one of those flawless bang flips he had perfected.

"Ye-I mean…Mr Osborn, you have a - "

"You can drop the formalities Felicia," Harry drawled, "I already have too many fake people in my life and I don't want you to be one of them."

Felicia clasped her clipboard tighter and looked up at her boss from beneath her fluttering eyelashes. The look she was giving Harry made Hayley want to vomit. Did the brunette not know that he only liked redheads? As in the redhead standing the next him…as in her, Hayley.

_Do they even know I'm here?_ she wondered, as the man she loved and the woman she greatly disliked, talked about boring business type stuff.

Hayley didn't really know why she was even in the elevator with them. She should have got out about twenty floors down. It just seemed right to follow Harry to his office. Besides, she actually hadn't seen his office before and she wanted to familiarise herself with it for when she performed his daily check ups.

She glanced over to Harry and Felicia who were laughing about something. Rolling her eyes, Hayley went back to staring at the frosted company logo on the inside of the transparent elevator. Her own green orbs were reflected faintly in the glass, and for once, she was scared at what she saw. Jealousy stared back at her clear as glass.

"Hayley?" called Felicia softly, "You coming?"

Blinking, Hayley realised that the elevator doors were about to close and the brunette was waiting for her in the room outside. She dashed between the doors, practically falling over the polished marble floor in her haste. Harry had disappeared somewhere, so she followed Felicia, seeing no reason not to. She noted how the woman was wearing a very tight black skater dress that showed way too much skin. Well, more skin than Hayley would ever show.

_Did guys like that? _Hayley thought, looking down at how covered she was and remembering what Harry had said earlier. _Maybe the polo neck and long sleeve combo was a bit too covered. But at least my skirt is tight-ish… _

It emerged that the elevator doors opened straight into what appeared to be a waiting area. It had a couple sofas, works of abstract art on the walls, and two astronaut suits. The astronauts were there probably because Norman Osborn had something to do with landing on the moon, or some sort of space shuttle technology. There were even mini lights to help display the suits – clearly, money was no object. There was also a massive plasma TV screen like the ones opposite the elevators in the foyer, only a lot bigger. Hayley had a feeling that OsCorp really liked TV screens.

Felicia beckoned Hayley forward and they both walked towards the transparent doors that led into the CEO's office. When the doors suddenly opened automatically and disappeared into the surrounding marble wall, Hayley's eyes widened in wonder and amazement.

_Is everything in this place made of glass? It's like OsCorp is obsessed with the material, it's beyond ridiculously amazing! _Hayley thought.

Walking into Harry's office was like how she had felt walking into his home for the first time – absolutely overwhelmed by the wealth of it all.

The office was spacious and light due to the room tall glass windows that surrounded it. A web of honeycomb steel on the outside of the building encased the room, creating geometric industrial feel. The stone floor had a similar hexagonal pattern, so that even though the office was minimalistic, it actually appeared busy due to the numerous shapes on the polished ground.

There were various seating areas, a sound system, and there was even a freaking bar! With way too many bottles of whisky and expensive liquors for Hayley's liking. There was also a separate meeting room divided by glass walls, with it's own long glass table and leather chairs. On the wall, Hayley could see a type of blue stone map. She couldn't make out what was on it, but it probably listed all the areas on the planet where OsCorp has some kind of trading export or business control.

Harry was sitting behind an interactive glass desk that was glowing as he pulled up various files - he appeared completely at ease.

Felicia moved down towards her boss as Hayley continued to stand in the doorway looking like an idiot, her mouth open wide in complete awe.

"Do you need to be here?" Harry snapped looking pointedly at the redhead.

"Erm, I guess not?" Hayley questioned slowly, slightly irked by his sudden hostility. "I'll have to check on you at midday for your – "

"See that you get up here ASAP!" he barked," I'm a busy man, and I don't have time for your pointless check ups!"

Hayley was absolutely flabbergasted: _Where the hell had that come from?_

Even Felicia seemed taken aback, and her hazel eyes kept flicking from her boss and the redhead, at a complete loss at what to say.

"One day, these _pointless _check ups will save your life Harry," Hayley spoke quietly, but loud enough for all three of them to hear. Her voice was dripping with disdain.

Before Harry could even respond, she turned and stormed out of his office, her head held high. It was only when she was back in the elevator and on her way down to the labs, did she risk bringing up a finger to remove the water droplets from her eyes.

* * *

"Are you here to do his check up?"

Hayley had barely got out the elevator and already Felicia had pounced on her.

"Yes," she replied, pointing to her bag of medical supplies, "Why are you out here?"

Felicia was sitting in the waiting area with only her clipboard, the astronauts and now Hayley for company.

"Oh, I got kicked out. Harry may like me but the board members do not."

Ignoring what the brunette had said about Harry liking her, Hayley checked her watch, and her small face expressed her puzzled thoughts. "So, who's in there with him now then?"

Harry's secretary glanced up from her clipboard and notes, as the redhead sat in the chair opposite her. "Menken," she replied.

"Shouldn't Harry be in a meeting with Wilson Fisk right now?"

"Yes, but Fisk changed it to ten o'clock last minute."

"But wasn't that when the board meeting was meant to be?"

Felicia sighed and rubbed her forehead in frustration. "Yes."

"So, Harry is probably more pissed off than this morning, right?"

"Yes. I've had to deal with a lot of pissy men today."

"Great."

An uncomfortable silence stretched between the two young women as they both tried and failed to ignore each other and keep from making eye contact. Hayley was the first to finally think of something to say.

"Felicia, I never really thanked you for the whole Starbucks thing."

"The what?"

"When I rang you really early in the morning and asked for Harry's favourite drink, remember? I never thought you'd actually give me the real answer, so…erm…thank you," Hayley told the girl honestly – it really had been a nice thing for her to do.

"I didn't want to irritate my boss," Felicia responded truthfully, putting down her clipboard since the redhead was clearly going to keep talking to her. "Plus, I didn't want to risk pissing off his girlfriend."

"Yeah, I guess so. Wait, how do you know I'm his girlfriend?"

"Is it not obvious?"

"Is it obvious? I mean, you saw how he was earlier."

"You're not the only one, Hayley. He's been shouting at me all morning."

Hayley leaned forward with a heavy sigh and clutched her head in her hands. "He must be so stressed being back at OsCorp. And here I am feeling sorry for myself. I'm such an idiot and a crap girlfriend!"

Felicia started to giggle slightly and Hayley blinked up at her thoroughly confused.

"Sorry, it's not funny," the secretary explained, "It's just that after you left, he said that not only was he a shit CEO but also a shit boyfriend."

Hayley smiled sadly, "He isn't shit, far from it actually." But then her eyes flicked down to the cast on her fingers.

"What happened to your hand?"

A tremendous crash and raised voices from inside Harry's office interrupted Hayley's answer. The two women shared a worried look, left their sets and ran into the office.

Nothing appeared out of place and initially the room seemed to be empty, until another crash directed the women to its source. In the separate meeting room on the right, Harry and Menken were arguing. Hayley could see that there were a few smashed mugs on the floor and an upturned leather chair.

"Did you think I wouldn't find out what you were up to?" Menken accused loudly, standing behind a chair near the blue stone wall.

Likewise, Harry was standing on the opposite side of the table with his back to the two women. His posture indicated that he was much calmer than the older man.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said slowly, his eyes twinkling wickedly.

"That's right, pretend to be the innocent, you arrogant defective – "

Harry laughed. "Oh, I'm sorry, do you not like it when I play the plausible deniability card?" Placing his hands on the glass table, he leaned over it, trying to intimidate the man opposite, "You should, after all, it was you who taught me that."

"You can't hide it forever!" Donald Menken sneered, looking down his nose at the young Osborn, "I know what you are up to! I will show everyone who you truly are."

"Your threats mean _nothing_ to me!" countered Harry, "I control this company, not you. You're lucky I even tolerate you! I should fire you Menken!"

"Then why haven't you? Because you're a coward! A freak like your father!"

"HOW DARE YOU COMPARE ME TO HIM!"

It took approximately five seconds for the situation to go from bad to dangerous.

In a fit of rage, Harry darted round the table, aggressively shoving anything in his path. As chairs started to fall, Menken scrambled backwards but only to avoid the furniture. He stood his ground, keeping the hard look on his face as he tried to remain indifferent to the young man's outburst. But Harry was having none of it.

Harry quickly closed the short distance between himself and Menken. He stopped when their noses were practically touching, both men staring each down.

"I am nothing like him," Harry seethed.

Just as a counter comment started to form on Menken's lips, he was violently pushed back into the hard wall as Harry clamped his hands round the older gentlemen's neck.

"My father was like you, he only cared about himself. And where is he now? Dead! I killed you once with a little help from my electrical friend, so you know I can do it again," he threatened, eyes narrowing as he concentrated on choking the life from his victim. _"It would bring me great pleasure to watch you die."_

"Harry! Let him go!" screamed Hayley.

The redhead and brunette had been watching the two men converse, silently hypnotised by the entire situation. They hadn't risked announcing their presence in case it made things worse. But now they could no longer stand at the sidelines.

Hayley dropped her medical bag and sprinted across the office, with Felicia hot on her heels. When they climbed the three steps up to the higher platform, she slowed down her movements and gently grabbed the silver handle on the glass doors. She opened it carefully, not wanting to make any sudden movements. Felicia stayed on the steps keeping the door open wide in case a hasty exit was needed.

"Harry," Hayley said calmly, tenderly placing a hand on his tension filled shoulder, "Let go of Menken."

Harry barely showed any indication that he'd heard her, with only a small twitching movement of his head in her direction betraying him. He continued to squeeze Menken's neck, his green eyes fixated on the way the man frantically tried to gulp down air. All Harry could see was green. A beauteous rage of green.

"You're going to kill him! Harry, stop!" Hayley tried again, with a little more urgency in her voice, all the while tugging on Harry's arms. She was very aware that the older man was quickly running out of air. "He's going to die! Harry! Please stop!"

But nothing would stop him. The look in his eyes was the same as the night when she gave her permission for him to kill Kinsey; murderous.

There was one last thing she could try.

"I'm sorry Harry," she whispered as she brought back her hand and slapped him round the face.

Instantly, he released his hold on Menken in shock, and man fell to the floor gasping for air. Hayley took the small window of opportunity to push Harry against the wall, trying to direct his attention to her. She held his face in her hands, needing his eyes to turn back to their usual sky blue tone. However, he was still obsessively focused on Menken who Felicia was quickly ushering out of the meeting room.

If Hayley could just get him focused on her then he would be able to calm down and walk away from the whole thing relatively unscathed.

"Harry," she said firmly, "I want you to look at me. I want you to look into my eyes, focus on my face."

She cupped his face harder, trying with all her strength to move his head in her direction, but Harry only had eyes for Menken, for the man he wanted to kill. Except Hayley knew that he wasn't a murderer…someone else was.

"Goblin, " she whispered.

Harry immediately looked down at her. "_What?"_

"I need you to calm down."

"_Why?"_

"Because Menken isn't worth getting thrown back into Ravencroft."

"_Oh, I think he is," _the Goblin hissed, glancing back up and glaring at Menken who was now standing with Felicia near his desk in the general office.

"But I wouldn't be able to help you like before. We would be separated."

Hayley could see the Goblin mulling it over, weighing up all the pros and cons of killing Menken. She needed to get through to him, get through to Harry, to both of them!

"Please don't make Harry into a murderer," she pleaded.

"_Kiss me, and I will spare his life."_

Nodding, Hayley pulled his head further towards her own and pressed her lips to his. Instinctively her eyes fluttered closed and she kissed him as hard as she could, hoping that it would satisfy his murderous lust and spare Menken from death. It was one of the few times that she had actually kissed Harry as the Goblin, and his insistent use of tongue was a dead give away. However when the initial roughness ceased, she opened her eyes and was surprised that Harry had his open also. They stared intensely at each other as their kiss continued. Hayley watched in amazement as his eyes rapidly transformed back to their normal piercing icy blue colour. She let out a little moan of relief, thankful that the situation was finally under control.

Their kiss only lasted mere seconds but it was long enough for the dangerous Id inside Harry to relinquish ownership.

"Nice to see you taking your therapy so seriously," Menken shouted, "Always the playboy Harry, surrounding yourself with an infinite number of whores – "

In a split second the green eyes were back and Hayley didn't have the strength to prevent the Goblin from charging out of the meeting room. She chased after him, with her slight frame and the adrenaline enabling her to get in front of him. Hayley pushed herself in between the two men just as it looked like one of them was going to punch the other. Even Felicia had thrown her arm in front of Menken in an effort to stop the men from making contact.

"Harry, stop! He is not worth it!"

"That's right, take orders from a woman. We all know you're sleeping with her!"

Hayley pressed her hands as hard as she could against Harry chest, urgently trying to stop him as he reacted to the man's poisonous comments. He was shoving his chest so hard against her body in an attempt to reach his target that Hayley let out a painful squeak as pain shot through her injured fingers.

Menken eventually broke free from Felicia's efforts at holding him back, and he made a grab for the scarf perfectly coiled around Harry's neck. As soon as the silken material dropped to the floor, there was a collective gasp from the two women. Hayley removed her hands from holding his chest and brought them up to her mouth in shock.

Around the white bandage covering his most aggressive lesion, Harry's skin had become completely mottled green, the spread disappearing underneath his shirt collar and growing up to his jaw. The surrounding veins were raised and black, making his usual complexion appear much paler than usual.

"That, is who you are," Menken jeered triumphantly, "A monster."

Hayley turned on the spot and glared furiously, jabbing her finger into the older man's chest. "No! You are wrong Menken. That is a disease! It does not define him! It is just a disease!"

"You keep telling yourself that. If you believe that lie, then you two deserve each other," Menken retorted, shrugging off Felicia's hands again as she tried to subdue him. He straightened himself and began walking towards the exit. "He'll destroy you in the end, Miss Carmichael, the Osborn men always do."

"Get out! GET OUT!" Harry bellowed.

The older man sneered and ascended the three steps up to the waiting room, the glass doors automatically opening.

"And Menken," Harry called softly, all hint of anger erased from his voice, "If you say anything, _anything_…_I will kill you."_

Hayley shuddered and she felt sick to her stomach; Menken would die eventually and there would nothing she could do to stop it.

So she instead of worrying about the future she remained in the present and needed to focus on the immediate danger that was Harry. Turning back towards him, Hayley gently pushed on his chest, ignoring the pain in her finger. She steered him over to the lounge area by the bar. When he realised where they were headed, he abruptly moved away from her hands and walked the rest of the way unguided.

Harry slouched in one of the black chairs and banged his fist on the low table beside him. "Felicia, get me a drink," he demanded rudely.

"Maybe alcohol isn't – "

"_I said do it!" _

Felicia flashed Hayley a look but did as her boss told her to. When she brought back a glass of whisky, Hayley noticed that the girl's hands were shaking.

Harry grabbed the glass and drained the amber liquid in one gulp. "More."

"First, Fe, could you please bring me my medical bag?" Hayley's eyes followed the brunette and when she was further away from them, the redhead continued squeaking quietly, "You do not need anymore alcohol! Have you taken your medication today?"

"_Yes." _

"I thought you promised that if I kissed you, you wouldn't kill him?"

She gave Felicia a grateful smile when the girl placed Hayley's medical bag on the table. Then the brunette picked up the empty glass and went to fill it with more alcohol at the bar. Hayley noticed that she didn't immediately reach for the bottle of whisky like she had previously. Instead, Felicia appeared to be searching for a drink with a little less alcoholic potency.

"I _never_ promised you."

"But you said – "

"_Why would I when it would be a promise I don't intend to keep?"_

Hayley shook her head incredulously and began to go through the tedious routine of taking his vitals. She noted down a few irregularities like how high his blood pressure was and the way that his eyes were impressively switching from blue to green. The wound on his neck was seeping clear serous fluid, so she cleaned the area and applied a fresh bandage. Harry was too irritated for her to check the other wounds on his body, and she decided that it would be easier if she examined them back at Osborn Manor.

Throughout her inspection, Harry had stayed quiet. Even when his eyes had finally returned back to blue, he continued to be frosty with her and Felicia. Hayley ignored it, but his change in personality worried her. It was almost as if Harry and the Goblin were merging into one.

It was only when she had left Harry and returned back to the labs, did she realise that no one could ever read her findings from today. No one in the research team could know. Her notes may lead to a better understanding of the long-term progression of Harry's illness, but it could also lead to a second incarceration. Everything she had written documenting Harry's change into the Goblin had to be deleted or hidden from OsCorp. The changes to his Retroviral Hypoplasia like his skin lesions and vitals when they flared up in times of stress would be the type of data she could report. The full manifestation into the Goblin however, when his eyes turned green and his voice changed, would have to be kept a secret.

What would have happened if she and Felicia hadn't been in the room? Would the Goblin have killed Menken? Something in the back of Hayley's mind said that the older man had just missed out on death.

* * *

It was late afternoon and Harry was sitting behind his desk, calmly sipping his latte. All the excitement from this morning had died down and it had taken him a good hour to reassure Hayley that he wasn't about to murder Menken. He was also certain that she had asked Felicia to check in on him every hour just in case.

He placed the strange little square hard drive his father had given him onto the interactive glass pane. All the files he had only seen briefly before his incarceration were now accessible. Searching through the entirety of his father's work was going to take time, but today Harry only need to find a few select files.

Pulling up the one marked "Parker", he spent two hours reading through and watching all the surveillance footage and information that had been collected over the years. In some video clips he saw himself and Peter playing at the park before Harry had been shipped off to boarding school. It made him feel angry that his father had paid more attention to Peter than his own son. One of the last videos had been filmed after the death of his father, which surprised Harry. It showed him and Peter throwing rocks across the water. He remembered what Pete had told him then about hope.

There was still hope.

The key _had_ to be the spider venom, and the answer_ had_ to be in Peter's blood! Why had it worked for Peter and not him? Spider-Man held the cure and Harry would get it eventually, one way or another. Even if it meant he had to kill Peter.

He had just pulled up the "Special Projects" folder when his cell started ringing.

"What do you want?' Harry asked in a very bored voice.

"How was your first day back?" his lawyer queried, completely ignoring his client's attitude.

"You sound like a parent asking their kid about school."

"Yeah, well, I'm not your parent," Manners snapped back down the receiver, "Though sometimes it feels like I am!"

"Get to the point Manners, I'm a very busy man," Harry drawled, opening up the schematics and information on his glider and body armour battlefield suit.

"I get enough shit from my other clients, I don't need it from you too! Just because you are now reinstated as CEO it doesn't mean you have to act like an arrogant little shit."

Harry sighed. "Fine. To what do I owe the pleasure of your call?"

"Other than every news channel yammering on about your return to OsCorp," Manners explained, "The picture of Hayley's mugger has been released to the news networks, so her attack is also one of the top news stories today. Furthermore, I have set up a reward sum for the return of the stolen emerald jewellery. And I have arranged for private police surveillance cars outside Hayley's home in the Bowery for her protection – there are going to be some nasty paparazzi out there wanting the best pictures."

"_You should probably tell him that she lives with us now," _the Goblin chimed in gleefully. He had lain dormant in Harry's mind after the confrontation with Menken, but now he couldn't resist annoying his host.

"How's Hayley?" Manners asked, completely unaware that a third person had been added to the conversation.

"She's fine."

"_She's more than fine, Harry, she's a flaming hot redhead! You need to give her a little more credit than that!" _the Goblin laughed in his head, "_So feisty today, I simply couldn't resist getting a kiss."_

"How's your therapy going?"

"Fine."

"_None existent."_

"Anything thing I should know?"

"_Yes!"_

"I'm always so happy that we have these little chats Manners," Harry sighed sarcastically.

"_You going to tell him that we nearly murdered someone today?"_

"Just to pre warn you," Harry said slowly, "Menken might be an issue that you need to revisit."

"Why?" asked Manners cautiously.

"Because he's becoming a liability! He thinks he can swan in to my office whenever he likes and tell _me _how to run _my_ company!" Harry shouted maliciously down his cell.

"Harry, you need to calm the fuck down!" the lawyer shoot back with just as much venom, "He was your father's personal assistant for over twenty years! If anyone can help you with OsCorp, he can!"

"He thinks he has power over me! No! Not this time! I knew I should have killed him when I had the chance!"

"_Exactly! Kill him! We should get on our glider and drop him off the top of OsCorp – " _

"Look. Harry, I get it, he's a dick, but unfortunately he's a dick we need to keep around. He has a lot of friends in high places, and it is in your best interest to keep him alive!" Manners tried to reason. "What would Hayley think? How do you think she would feel if you murdered someone?"

"_She didn't have any qualms when we killed Kinsey." _

"Fine. But he discovered something about the E.C.T.F. We need to keep him quiet. You need to do something Manners!"

"All I can do is pay him off with more money," the lawyer clarified, "You're already paying him a small fortune!"

"No, we need a change of tactics. Threaten to stop supplying him the bribe money. Menken is narcissistic and loves the luxurious life that money brings. Threaten to cut him off."

"Ok, I'll try. And what happens if that doesn't work?"

"It will. He knows that if he puts a toe out of line, I _will _kill him."

* * *

It had been a very long week. What with caring for Harry in between his excessive amount of meetings, to being in the laboratories analysing data, to dodging the incessant reporters every morning and evening, Hayley had a lot to deal with. And she was exhausted.

All the data she collected from Harry's daily check ups was beginning to take its toll. The fact that the majority of it was falsified really went against everything she believed in. She had to keep reminding herself that she was protecting Harry. The notes she fabricated on his worst days were to keep him out of Ravencroft. However, she had a feeling that all her lies would catch up to her in the end.

The team of scientists were continuing their work from where they left off when Norman Osborn had died. They were excited to be able to study the disease in such a young subject. Hayley could tell that the team wanted to examine Harry in person, to document the progression of how Retroviral Hyperplasia manifested itself in the earlier stages. As much as she knew that Harry would eventually need to be studied in person, she suggested that this happen in a month's time after he had settled back into working at OsCorp. The scientists grudgingly agreed to her request.

Harry had become very distant ever since he broke her fingers and had the fight with Menken. Usually he bounced back from all the drama but she could see that the stress from running his own company was getting to him. She hadn't seen his cheeky smirk all week and it was beginning to concern her. Plus, he looked positively knackered from the lack of sleep his sleepwalking caused. She probably had dark bags under her eyes too from being woken up every night from his screams. Hayley needed a break from all this but she knew that wasn't an option. Instead, she decided that she could really use a friend to talk to. And there was only one person other than Harry that she considered a friend.

She'd sent him a text that morning saying to meet her at Gwen's grave around noon. It surprised her that she got to the grave first, especially since she had to exit OsCorp incognito, hiding from not only paparazzi but also from James and Pete the bodyguards. It had taken her quite awhile to find an exit other than the front entrance.

Either way, Hayley was there, and she sat down on the cool grass. She pulled out the weeds surrounding the grave and brushed away the autumn leaves. Soft footfalls caught her attention and her heart beat wildly in her chest, the memory of footsteps in the alley echoing in her mind.

"Hey," Peter Parker said, taking off his backpack and joining her on the ground.

"Why were you at the gala Peter?" she asked calmly, cutting to the chase.

"I had a press pass from the Bugle – I had to take pictures."

"Oh."

_Of course that's the reason, idiot! _Hayley thought, cross that she hadn't come to that conclusion herself.

"I'm sorry if seeing us together upset you. If I had known, I – "

"Hey, it's cool, it's ok," Peter joked, holding up his hands in surrender, an attempt to make light of the situation. But one look at Hayley, and he knew, now was the time to be honest. "Just seeing you, with him, well, it's hard, you know? My ex-friend with my dead girlfriend's friend, it's, I don't know, it seems messed up. But, I guess, the main thing, is that even though you went together, you're not actually together."

Hayley bit the side of her cheek, scared he would see right through her. "Mmmm…though, I'm kind of living with him now but it's not what you think!" she spoke quickly, not leaving him any room to interrupt, "I have to do a lot of medical stuff with him throughout the day, monitoring his condition and that. It just seemed like the only logical thing to do." Cracking her knuckles, Hayley tried desperately not to look at Peter, too terrified to learn his opinion on the matter. "Apparently Norman had eight live-in doctors before he died," she added swiftly.

There was long pause while Peter digested that piece of information. He decided to not ask further questions on the subject because it most likely would make him angry.

"So, I saw what happened on the news," he continued, hanging his head, glancing up at her through guilt-ridden hazel eyes, "I saw what happened after I let you jump out of the cab."

Hayley visible tensed at the memory

"If hadn't been so stupid…I'm sorry I wasn't there to protect you – "

"You couldn't have done anything Peter, the guy had a knife. People can't play hero, they have to look out for themselves. It's not like you're Spider-Man or something!"

"What? Ha! Me? Spider-Man? Pfft! Imagine running around in all that latex – not my style," he diverted quickly under the pretence of trying to make light of the subject. "But it did happen and I should have done – "

"Seriously, can we just forget that night ever happened? I really don't want to think about it anymore. It's bad enough I have to see his face on the news and in the papers."

"Spider-Man will catch him, you will have justice," Peter said a little too passionately.

Hayley quirked her eyebrow, before shaking her head and smiling at him, "You really believe in that spider guy, don't you?"

"Gwen believed in him, therefore so do I. Because, if I had the same powers he did, I would only use them for good, I would never harm anyone, I would be compelled to help, you know? I believe he didn't harm Gwen because I know that's what she would have believed."

"Your right, she did believe in him," Hayley stated sorrowfully, picking at the grass again.

"He's a symbol for the people," Peter continued, trying but failing for her to see his arachnid alter ego as anything but bad, "He wouldn't kill one of the people he was trying to protect."

"Hey Parker, can I tell you something? When I was in the alley, on the ground, apparently someone found me and called an ambulance. The crazy thing is, even after all the stuff with Harry and Spider-Man, I still want to believe in him. Even though he can't be everywhere, I like to pretend that the spider was that guy, the one who rang the cops."

Peter stared at her, grinding his teeth; should he tell her? Should he tell her that in fact it was Spider-Man who rang the cops? That it was he, Peter Parker, who found her in the alley and was too late to save her from the mugger? Should he tell her the truth? Should he tell her that he is Spider-Man?

"It's stupid really, just a strange fantasy of hope," she chuckled bitterly, "I'm not blind Parker, I know that Harry is flawed and I know that he has a dark side. So, as much as I blame Spider-Man for Gwen's death, a small part of me wants to believe he didn't. I want him to not have killed her." Wiping away the tears that were slowly tumbling from her eyes, Hayley continued to express her worries, "But if I think like that, then the only person it could have been is-is-I can't think like that, it's safer not to think of that option."

"It would be safer if you weren't involved at all."

"It's funny," Hayley went on, completely ignoring him, "But I think Harry hates you just as much as he hates Spider-Man."

_Now, I'll tell her now, _thought Peter.

"What happened? How did you betray him?"

"I didn't betray him. I did what I thought was right at the time," Peter said assuredly. "And, I still think, no, I know I was right."

_Tell her now! Come on, don't chicken out Parker, _Peter thought.

"I haven't really been a good friend to you, and I'm sorry," Hayley confessed, "I think we both went into our protective bubbles when Gwen died, and really, we should have been there for each other. I let my working relationship with Harry diminish my friendship with you. I'm sorry Parker."

There was long pause of silent lament as the pair gazed upon the grave of the one who connected them, the one who had made them friends in the first place. Even though they didn't look at each other, both knew that the other was silently crying. They could feel it in the cool air.

Rubbing his hand over his face, Peter put an arm around Hayley and gave her an awkward side hug. "Pfft, come on Carmichael, you and me are still friends, still pals!" He flashed her a genuine smile, meaning every word he said. But then when she went to wipe away her tears, he noticed the cast on her hand. "What happened to your fingers?"

"He-I-there was an incident with a door," Hayley said quickly, gently shrugging of Peter's arm now that their little friendship reconciliation moment was over.

"Oh yeah? Does that door happen to have a multi-million dollar company?"

"No." Hayley lied, though she knew that he wasn't buying it.

She hated the way people immediately thought Harry had hurt her – it made her want to hide the truth even more, because she knew that it was the Goblin's anger, not Harry.

"You know you can walk away from this," Peter said, knowing full well that she couldn't, that she was in too deep.

"There is nothing to walk away from."

"Have you told him about our conversation in the cab?"

"No"

"Have you told him that I was in the cab?"

"No."

"Have you told him about coming to meet me here?"

"No."

"He'll be angry when he finds out," sighed Peter. He was concerned of what might happen when Harry finally discovered Hayley's lies, what he might do to her in a fit of blinding rage.

"He won't find out."

"Hayl – "

"I know he'll be angry. But it's ok, I can handle it."

Peter glanced to her bandaged fingers before making eye contact with Hayley. "_Can _you? Can you handle it?"

"Yes."

A tiny voice inside her head, so teeny tiny that she barely knew it was there, whispered, "No. No I can't."

* * *

**Apologies if the Harry/Menken fight scene is a bit shit. I've struggled with it for five days and I decided that no matter what I did I was always going to think it was crap! So, hopefully it didn't turn out too badly. **

**Btw if you want to see something fun, search Dane DeHaan "Jesse D'Amato Fuck compilation 1" on YouTube – he swore sooo many times during the TV show "In Treatment", it's hilarious! My apologies if you are against swearing or are really young, because then you shouldn't watch it!**

**Also, Dane DeHaan is in a new music video for the band Imagine Dragons "I Bet My Life"… YUM!**

**You guys are awesome and are the best readers ever! MUCH LOVE XXX**


	25. Chapter 25

**Featured song**: _The Troubles_ – U2 ft Lykke Li / _Desire – _Years &amp; Years

* * *

**I do not own Spider-Man, The Amazing Spider-Man 2 movie, or anything related to the Marvel franchise and all that jazz!**

**WARNING:**** Mature content ahead! NSFW! Rated M for a reason! Wonderful time ahead… you guys have been waiting for this, I hope I can deliver! **(Please don't report me!)

* * *

Another two weeks went by with Harry spending more and more time locked up in his office at OsCorp. Even though they now lived together, Hayley barely saw him. And when she did see him, he was in another world entirely.

Harry's nightmares and sleepwalking were getting progressively worse, as was the property damage in his home. He had smashed practically every mirror he could find, even going as far as discovering a compact mirror in Hayley's purse and destroying it into tiny twinkling pieces. Locking the bathroom door at night was the only way to preserve the mirrors within it. Even if he couldn't get hold of a mirror, Harry would still find ways to see his reflection during one of his sleepwalking episodes. Hayley would often find him bent over the large granite table or standing at the tall windows in the lounge area. His purpose was always the same; to look upon his reflection and recite the same three lines.

Those sentences about being a shadow in the dark and spiralling downward were now so engraved into Hayley's mind that she often found herself repeating them. She had researched their possible meaning, where they could have come from, why Harry might be saying them, if they were a famous quote. But no matter how much she searched, she always came up blank. The words meant nothing outside of Harry and herself.

The constant nightly episodes were causing her to loose sleep and it was starting to affect her work. She had all but abandoned her therapy sessions with Harry, and even though her daily vital checks continued, it almost felt useless since she made up most of the entries. The medical checks had gone from thrice daily to now once a day. Hayley was only able to corner Harry at OsCorp, since their mornings were always rushed due to lack of sleep and in the evenings he was never around.

OsCorp was Harry's number one priority. He would arrive back at the manor around nine in the evening, having stayed late to comb through all of the files on the memory cube his father had bestowed him. And once he was home Harry fell asleep on his favourite couch, smelling of whisky, unable to keep open his bloodshot eyes caused by continually staring at computer screens and reflective surfaces. The comfy sofa was his new bed, not having slept in his own for almost as long as he'd been reinstated as CEO. This meant that the only real time he spent with Hayley was twenty minutes at work during his vitals check, or at night when she found him sleepwalking.

She couldn't even begin to count how many times she awoke to his screams. Sometimes it was as bad as four times in one night. The sleep deprivation was affecting Hayley so badly that she began taking her sleeping pills again. Her recreational drug abuse had momentarily stopped towards the end of Harry's stay in Ravencroft. Hayley's mind had been more focused on him and his immediate future, than her flame filled past. No more PTSD nightmares and insomnia meant no immediate need to pop pills. Sure, she still occasionally had bad dreams about Kinsey's attack and flashes of her identified mugger, but now it was Harry's nightmares that were keeping her up at night, not her own.

During the day he was full of bravado and wore the mask of a prestigious CEO.

Not at night.

It was only at night that Hayley saw the real Harry; at night she saw traces of the man she loved.

There were three stages of his sleepwalking episodes. The initial stage was when Harry blankly recited the three mysterious lines, his state almost catatonic, like someone had stolen his soul. Then the Goblin would appear smashing his reflection, muttering about monsters and yelling for "Ginge." And finally there was just Harry, awake, lost and confused, screaming with raw emotion for her to make sense of the nightly chaos.

At first, Harry welcomed her attention when she rushed to him, responding with urgency to every scream. However, after five days he started to brush off her caring attention, preferring to suffer in silence than accept her help. Hayley would go to him every time he screamed, no matter how much he rebuffed her care - she would never give up regardless of his denial. Something was wrong with him, that much she could see, and it scared her that there was nothing she could possibly do to help him.

The only thing keeping her sane was meeting up with Peter. They hung out at Gwen's grave, chatting about their memories of her, about nonsense. About anything but Harry.

No one noticed her absence, especially not Harry. None of her work colleagues at the lab commented on her leaving early or taking long lunches. They assumed she was with Harry gathering important data. Bodyguards James and Pete only took her to OsCorp in the morning, shielding her from the few hungry reporters who were _still_ stationed outside. The two men both presumed that she went home every night with Harry when the reporters had disappeared. And Harry was too wrapped up in OsCorp business to really acknowledge her existence. No one realised that she took the subway home every day. No one knew that she would sneak through a fire escape or ground floor toilet window when she wanted to meet Peter Parker.

And today, she was running late for their Friday afternoon catch up.

Hayley had left work early to do a bit of light shopping before stopping by the cemetery. She was becoming sick and tired of being invisible to Harry and really wanted to do something to lessen his stress and make him feel better.

"Sorry! Subway was hectic."

"What's in the bags?" Peter asked casually as Hayley sat down beside him on the cool ground, mimicking his position by hugging her knees to her chest. He pulled down the hood of the blood red hoody he was wearing to look at her.

"Clothes."

Peter picked up one of the bags and glanced inside at the cosmetics and a green sparkly dress. "Since when do you care about your appearance? Not that, er, that you don't always look nice, it's just, you know, you always wear baggy stuff," he said hurriedly, gesturing to her stonewash jeans and oversized black blouse, "I figured you weren't fussed about things like that."

"I'm not," Hayley sighed, fiddling with her plaited ponytail, "I'm just sick of seeing my face in the papers wearing the same stuff."

"True."

"Thanks, thanks a lot Parker," she replied sarcastically, giving him a playful shove.

Peter grinned at her and gave her a little push back, before his eyes narrowed and he studied her face, "You look different today."

"I think we just established that I wear the same clothes all the time."

Spinning on his bum, Peter turned to face the redhead. "No, I mean your face and your hair," he commented awkwardly, leaning forward and flicking her ponytail in a judgemental manner. There was nothing sexual in his action, just pure observation.

All the same, Hayley quickly took back her hair and flipped it over her shoulder, "My hair is in a plait and I'm wearing lipstick, is that a crime?"

"No," Peter muttered scratching his head, as he ducked his head avoiding eye contact, "But your broken fingers are."

"This again? _Really?_ I told you that they were shut – "

"Shut in a door, yeah? You're not fooling anyone with that story Carmichael, not even the doctors," Peter exclaimed in frustration, tearing up the grass surrounding him. "I spoke to my Aunt. She said that your fractures are not consistent with a door slam. More like a twist and yank. And, you had abnormal bruising on – "

"What are you, a freaking cop? A private investigator? I don't have to answer to anyone, especially you!" Hayley snapped, glaring at him, and she folded her arms in her lap, trying to conceal her bandaged fingers.

"You know you look like crap right?" he retorted simply, "Behind the lipstick and fancy hair, your face is tired and worn. You can't cover up exhaustion! Just like you can't cover up abuse with a mahogany door."

"That's it! I've had it with you Parker, I cannot stand this constant bickering!" Hayley shrieked jumping to her feet. She placed a hand on the gravestone before them, "I'm sorry Gwen, I've tried to be patient and reasonable, but he just won't stop!"

Grabbing her shopping, Hayley stalked away, weaving in and out of the many headstones. She made sure not to step on any flowers or burial mounds even though her anger was making her speed walk like a maniac. All she needed to do was get to the exit gates before Peter caught up to her. Even without stopping to look behind, the heavy rhythmic footfalls she could hear told her that he was indeed following her. He was so persistent in his hatred for her relationship with Harry, that he was now chasing her. Hayley couldn't quite believe that their friendship had come to this.

When the cemetery gates came into view she broke into a small run, her mind solely focused on reaching them.

"Hayley! Come back!"

"Go away Peter! I am si – AH!"

In her haste she didn't see a crumbled ground level headstone. Her foot caught on the deteriorated rock tripping over it with her arms flailing and bags flying. Another much larger tombstone in the row behind loomed into view before her emerald eyes. Hayley scrunched them closed, ready for her head to smack against the rock hard stone. A small scream escaped her lips as she felt the rough stone surface brush over her forehead.

Except, that's all it did, just simply skim across her head seconds before something grabbed her arm. Hayley sailed backwards, away from the threatening gravestones and into Peter's steady arms. He grasped her waist whilst his other hand held onto her three shopping bags, all their contents still neatly inside.

_How did he catch up to me so fast? I swear he wasn't close enough to grab me!_ Hayley wondered briefly.

"Are you alright?"

"Shit, yeah, thanks," Hayley wheezed, her breaths coming out in short rapid bursts. She shrugged off Peter's grasp and stumbled out of his arms. "Bags please," she demanded quietly, holding out her hand expectantly.

Peter passed the redhead her shopping." You've got a small graze on your head," he observed and scratched his own head sheepishly, "Sorry I couldn't, you know, catch you in time – "

"Don't be ridiculous Parker, a small graze is nothing."

"You might want to cover it up with some of your new makeup."

"Why?" she asked slowly, "In case _he_ finds out about our little meetings?"

"No. We wouldn't want people to think that Harry did it…unlike your fingers,"

Throwing her hands up on anger, Hayley stormed over to the gates, all the while shouting at him as he followed closely behind. "For fuck sake! You just don't want anyone to happy do you? You would rather bring me down to your level and wallow in depression with you!"

"I'm trying to save – "

"No! No you are not!"

"But he abuses – "

"No he doesn't! He is nothing but kind to me."

"Your fingers say different."

"My_ fingers _were an accident!" she screeched stopping in her tracks and turning to face Peter, "If Spider-Man hadn't been swinging around acting like he owned fucking Manhattan, then my fingers would not be broken!"

"Spider-Man?" Peter questioned, all the annoyance in his voice melting away. He stood and shuffled his feet, shoving his hands into his hoody pockets, suddenly anxious at what she might say next.

"Yes! Spider-Man has _everything _to do with Harry's aggression, everything to do with why he broke my fingers again!"

"Hang on, he broke them once before?" he asked disbelievingly.

"I'm done, Peter. This, our friendship, is over!"

Hayley made to move away and out the cast iron gates that stood sentry to the graveyard. She had barely stepped onto the sidewalk when she felt a hand grasp her wrist. With all her might she tried to resist Peter's robust hold, however her strength was measly in comparison; he only held onto the redhead to prevent her from walking away.

"Peter. Let. Go. Of. Me!" she demanded, her seething eyes meeting his brown ones full of concern.

"I'm only trying to help you," Peter reasoned quietly, trying to not bring attention to their little tiff from passers-by. "Gwen would want – "

"Gwen would want me to be happy. She would want you to be happy, for us to move on!" Hayley implored, "I've moved on, now you should to."

Mustering her strength, she yanked her arm one final time, stumbling a little when Peter released her. They stared at one another, both knowing that this argument would be the final one they would have. Nothing could repair this rift in their friendship. The only way they would be able to remain friends was if Hayley removed Harry Osborn from her life. It was the one sacrifice that she was unwilling to make. So she offered Peter one last sad smile, and she walked away from the one lingering connection she had to Gwen.

Peter knew that the only thing that could change Hayley's mind was if he told her the truth.

"Hey, Hayley."

She stopped but didn't turn around.

"Can you still handle it?"

Hayley clenched her jaw and ground her teeth. Lifting up her good hand, she curled down all her fingers except the middle one. She heard him sigh at her immature swearing, so she put her arm down and walked away from Peter and the cemetery.

That tiny nagging voice was growing louder, its disagreeing point of view throwing doubt as to whether she really could handle it.

* * *

The subway had remained busy; the hordes of people had not lessened from when she rode it earlier. Hayley's journey home from the cemetery had taken a good thirty minutes longer than usual.

The penthouse was dark when she returned to Osborn Manor in the early evening. There were no lights on, but what little light there was came from the blue glow of dusk shining through the tall windows. The living area looked very ominous, especially with the window silhouettes ghosting over the furniture and floor.

Hayley didn't feel scared or nervous by such a gloomy setup. Her mind was focused on putting away her new purchases and maybe changing into her new sparkly green dress for when Harry arrived home later. She mentally went through a checklist of food that she wanted to ask Connolly to prepare for them both. Maybe strawberries, chocolate…

"Where have you been?"

Hayley froze as a velvety yet accusatory voice caressed her ears. She spun round to see Harry leaning against the granite table behind her, a sneaky grin befitting the Cheshire cat upon his suspicious face. He was wearing casual clothes, a black t-shirt and his skinny jeans, which suggested that he'd been back long enough to change out of his work clothes.

She could have sworn he hadn't been there a few seconds ago.

"Harry! Wha-what are you doing here?" she babbled, glancing down to the marble floor and licking her lips nervously.

Turning his head to the side, Harry observed her obvious signs of anxiety, his eyes raking up and down her body. "I live here, don't I?" he responded simply.

"I mean…I thought…you aren't at work?"

"Well, _I_ thought I might surprise you and take you out to dinner," he explained. His face changed to that of controlled anger as he closed the small gap between them, "I go to collect you from the labs, and wouldn't you know, you weren't there." Harry placed his hands on the blue chair behind Hayley, trapping her against it, "So I'll ask you again, where have you been Hayley?"

"I went shopping," she explained in a small voice, still not quite able to meet his intense and critical gaze. She jerked her head in the direction of the grey couch on her right, gesturing to where she'd dumped her bags.

Harry's eyes flicked from her face to her purchases and back again. "I can see that," he said steadily, "Why?"

"I wanted to buy you a present."

Immediately Harry's face softened, her answer not one he'd anticipated. "You bought me something?" he asked, his voice faltering, almost like he couldn't quite believe it.

"Of course!" Hayley smiled, her guard dropping when his arms fell limply from the chair.

Reaching for his hand, she gently pulled him over to the couch. His skin felt so warm against her fingers and she couldn't help but slightly caress his hand with her thumb. It had been awhile since she'd touched him other than during his vitals check. She tried to remember the last time they'd actually spent any quality time together. Her bright smile faltered when Hayley quickly realised that he'd broken her fingers the last time they'd been together like this.

Instead of dwelling on that memory, she sat on the couch and busied herself by picking up a black cardboard bag and removing its neatly gift-wrapped contents.

"Here," she said shyly, placing her gift into Harry's lap, "This is for you."

Harry stared at her in astonishment at being given an actual gift. He'd never had the need for presents since he was so rich and could buy everything he ever wanted at the drop of a hat. Even on his birthday, he'd rarely received a present from his father, discounting that bottle of Scotch sent by Norman's assistant.

So instead of unwrapping it like a normal person, Harry continued to stare at the redhead. Her eyes glanced down to the unopened gift and she began to bite her lip nervously. Harry wanted nothing more than to bite her rouged lips himself, but he still had her present in his lap and she was looking at him expectantly. He flipped his bangs off his face and started to remove the paper surrounding his gift.

Inside the packaging was a black and grey pinstripe cashmere scarf.

Harry tentatively ran his shaking fingers over the soft material, as if to somehow validate in his mind that this was real. The fact that his hands were trembling irked him greatly. Another special moment ruined by the Osborn family curse.

"I wanted to give you something to show how much I appreciate you letting me live with you," Hayley whispered, her green eyes fixed on his face, trying to gauge his reaction. "You've done so much for me Harry, and I thought…I don't know. It's just that I only ever see you wear one scarf," she explained, "You probably have others – "

"No. I don't."

Their eyes met. She could tell instantly how much this small gesture meant to him.

"Here, let me."

Gently, Hayley unwound the paisley scarf from his neck and placed it on the coffee table. Then she picked up the cashmere scarf, her gift, and pulled it loosely round his shoulders. Her hands ended up flat against his chest, her thumbs stroking the soft woollen fabric. Hayley glanced up to see his piercing eyes searching her face, seemingly scrutinising every part of her like he hadn't seen her in months. And truthfully, it had been nearly three weeks since they had been intimately close to one another. She could practically feel his breath ghosting over her face. It was such a rush to suddenly be on the end of such an intense stare, and Hayley could feel her chest redden beneath her blouse.

His hand suddenly cupped her face, holding her in place, whilst a finger rubbed over her bottom lip. "You're wearing lipstick," he commented, no inclination in his voice to suggest whether he liked it or not.

"Yes," she breathed, her tongue unconsciously licking her lip where his finger had been mere seconds before.

"And perfume?"

"Yes."

"You smell like raspberries," Harry remarked, his other hand lifting up her roughly plaited hair to inhale more of the alluring scent. "Why are you doing all this?"

"I wanted to look nice for you," Hayley murmured, her voice trembling and her cheeks blushing as she steeled herself to look him dead in the eye, "I want you to want me."

"Oh, I've never stopped wanting you, Hayley," smirked Harry, his eyes twinkling in dark excitement at the possible prospect of what her statement implied.

"Prove it."

Immediately Harry tightened his grip on her face and pulled her into an earth-shattering kiss. She squeaked in surprise at such an aggressive reaction but then a soft moan escaped her lips, and they both knew that his harsh touch excited her. So he wrapped his arm around her waist, hoisting her slight body to straddle his, like they had done previously when Fiers interrupted them. But there was no one to interrupt them now. They wanted each other and there would be no more compromises.

Hayley returned his kiss with just as much heated vigour and moved her body up and down, trying to find the perfect angle to keep his lips upon hers. It felt like she wasn't in control of herself; the way she shimmied and swayed, movements that were unconscious felt so right. Her hands instinctually scrunched up in his t-shirt, her sharp nails causing Harry to hiss and bite her lip in retaliation. And when she moaned, he absorbed the sound with his tongue, all the hairs on his neck standing erect like the fire burning in his groin.

He had never seen such hunger and confidence in the little redhead. It was intoxicating and Harry wanted more. All the frustration that had built over nearly eight months of knowing each other was brimming to the surface. His eyes shifted between icy blue and violent green until they merged together to create a uniquely coloured pupil all of its own.

And when her nervous hands wrapped themselves in his new scarf and pulled his body closer, Harry growled in response, truly marvelled by her boldness. He couldn't let her have all the control. She was too innocent, and he had many a trick up his sleeve.

The arm he had draped around her back dropped lower to grab hold of her ass. He pulled her even closer against him so that her chest was flush with his, her head slightly above his eye level. The smooth column of her neck was bare before his lips. He dared a glance at her face to see her panting with desire but her eyes gave away her nervousness. Harry maintained eye contact, slowly poking out his tongue to lick her rouged neck.

The action caused her to moan and push her body upwards in the direction of his licking motion. Harry's grip on her ass tightened painfully, locking her down into the position he preferred. His other hand fixed itself in the strands of her hair and he tugged her head back and away from him. Hayley pouted in annoyance but could do nothing to change it. Harry sat up, his lips playfully nuzzling her throat as he shifted to sit on the very each of the couch with Hayley still straddling his hips.

She tried to move her head forward towards him but he gripped her plaited ponytail and corrected her position to expose her neck again. He continued to kiss, lick and nibble, working his way down to her skinny collar bones. All Hayley could do was cling to his back and neck, twisting her fingers in frustration around the short brown strands of his hair.

"I want you, Harry Osborn," she breathed desperately, "I want you in every way possible."

Harry paused his torturous lips on her neck. "Are you sure?"

Feeling his hold on her hair slacken, Hayley stopped staring at the ceiling and brought her head down so she could face him. Even in the gloomy room she could see that he still feared rejection.

"Yes! What kind of question is that?"

"I don't want you to make a heated mistake."

"Harry, you are not a mistake. You could _never_ be a mistake," she assured kissing his lips chastely, "My _only_ mistake is not having done this sooner."

The fear instantly disappeared from his face and Harry smirked widely, a hint of darkness flashing behind his eyes.

Suddenly the hand that was twisted in her hair fell to her waist, both his palms gripped her bum and he stood up, holding Hayley close. She wrapped her legs around him and dug her heels into his lower back

"Wait! Where are we going?" she asked, her hands clinging to his neck, fearful that he might drop her – though she weighed too little for that to ever happen.

"I'm not going to have sex with you on the couch, Hayley! Please, I have some class!" he tutted. Harry shook his head at her and rolled his eyes in mock reprimand, his beaming smirk giving away his intoxicated bliss.

She giggled like a shy schoolgirl, and pushed the bangs from his predatory eyes. "Ever the gentleman, Mr Osborn?"

"Of course! I _am _a billionaire _and _CEO of my own company you know," he chuckled, adjusting his hold on her as he began to walk away from the grey sofa.

"Oh really?" Hayley played along, She watched the living area get further and further away as they entered the bedroom, "I bet you say that to all the girls."

"Only one," Harry smirked, and he squeezed her hips hard enough to leave bruises, "A redhead, if you must know."

"Really? Does this redhead happen to have her legs wrapped around your waist right now?" she teased before shrieking when Harry suddenly dropped her and himself onto his bed without warning.

"No. This redhead happens to be_ lying_ on my bed," he corrected, "And I'm going to show her exactly what it's like to be loved by Harry Osborn…_and desired by the Goblin._"

Hayley sucked in her breath and twisted her fingers in his ruffled hair as her back arched up at such a provocative statement. She wasn't ashamed of her feelings anymore. Whether it was Peter's constant nagging or Harry's absence these past few weeks, she now knew more than ever that she loved him. Her world revolved around Harry, and it had been pure agony becoming so distant from him.

Her hand travelled under his t-shirt, nails scratching at his lower back, her wanting need insistent and demanding. She pushed up the black fabric and Harry stopped stroking her face to lean up and remove his t-shirt. As the cool air hit his naked skin, he realised that he also wanted to feel Hayley's soft body on his. With his disease-ridden shaking hands, he quickly tried to undo the buttons on her shirt.

Unfortunately Harry couldn't unbutton her shirt fast enough for his liking so he pulled the fabric apart, popping the placket open, sending small black buttons flying everywhere. Hayley yelped in shock at the sudden rush of chilled air against her bare stomach and her nipples hardened beneath the soft lace fabric of her jade green bralette. She let out a sensual mewl as Harry placed an explorative hand on her left breast. He could feel her trembling under him.

"Shhh, Hayley, we'll take this slow," he comforted before kissing her on the nose.

She nodded quickly and pushed her body up, her arms reaching behind her back, clipping open the fastenings on her bra. With her fingers she flicked away the lacy undergarment, rolling her hips into him sensually. Then her fingers descended onto his skin, exploring every inch like he was doing to her, now that her bra had vanished.

Even though both of their hands were as equally demanding, they had come to familiarize themselves with each other's "out of bounds" territory. Hayley knew the exact location of each of his bandaged lesions even without having to feel for them. Her hands skated around them, careful not to disturb the infected skin with her stroking and kneading. Whereas Harry gripped her pointy hips, pert bum and shoulders, occasionally running his knuckles along the smooth as glass winged scars on her back. He revelled in the way she shuddered beneath him when he did so.

"I want you, Harry," Hayley murmured in his ear as he kissed the flesh of her neck.

Even though she sounded confident, her voice was quivering in fear of the unknown. They were surpassing their heated interaction in the hotel room at the charity gala - this was new ground for her.

"Patience," he purred, running his hands down her bare sides, resting them on her hips, "_You have to play the game before you can reach the bonus round_."

Harry unbuttoned her jeans, pulling them down and off her legs along with her panties, grinning when he saw that the green lace matched her discarded bralette. She shimmied further up the bed since they were practically falling off the end. Her heart fluttered wildly beneath her breast, almost not believing that she was in bed with Harry crawling up her body. His hand dipped down between her legs and Hayley's eyes rolled back as he began to do things she'd only read about in books. It didn't take long for her breathing to become elevated, her chest rising up and down as she swayed her hips to meet the ministrations of his fingers.

"I need you now," she insisted, scrabbling to touch every naked part of him, desperate for a release of the unfamiliar tingling fire bubbling up inside of her.

Harry chuckled at her urgency and slowly released his slick fingers from her body. He pushed on the bed and knelt over her, his hands fumbling with the button fly on his jeans and Hayley reached up to help him. Her eyes widened at how hard he was for her, and she bit her lip anxiously as Harry kicked off his jeans and boxers. They were both fully naked, though he had forgot to remove his socks; so hungry was his sexual appetite for her.

"It'll hurt a little," he whispered truthfully, adjusting his position so that he was lying over her.

"I trust you," Hayley nodded and smiled, a face not of fear but acceptance. She was laid naked and unafraid before him, ready to loose her purity to the man she loved.

Slowly, Harry pushed until his length was completely hidden inside her. The sudden pressure made her hiss and she scrunched her eyes closed at the small stinging sensation. It felt slightly uncomfortable yet so right, like they were two puzzle pieces finally joined together

"_Psst! Open your eyes Ginge," _he whispered, his own sparkling in ecstasy. When she opened them, he cupped her face and reassured her,"Take deep breaths and look at me."

She nodded mutely, and desperately tried to keep eye contact as Harry gradually began to move, sliding in and out at a slow pace.

Everything was full of intensity. The way his green feral eyes bore into hers, making sure she knew exactly how much he needed her and how much he desired her. Even with his bangs disturbing his eye line, Harry never stopped looking at her. It was a very clear message that she was the only one for him, and in that moment, Hayley knew that there would be no other; he had claimed her. And he was hers just as much as she was his.

They were meant for each other.

The only sound either of them made was deep and heavy breathing, as Harry was too afraid to groan out loud in case he let go of his restraint. He continued to rock at a moderate pace, waiting patiently for Hayley to adjust to the new sensations she was feeling.

"Harry," she panted, "I…I…hurry!"

"_Only if you say my name_," he teased, thinking back to their time in the hotel room. Though he would never admit it, he was glad they didn't take things further – making love in his bed was the perfect way for Hayley to loose her innocence.

"I just did! I can't…I feel…am I enough?"

Harry frowned but kept on moving his hips as hers started to roll with him. "What…what…fuck, Hayley, what are you on about?"

"I…I need to know…am I enough for you?"

Snaking his arm underneath her back, Harry lifted her up and closer to his chest. He groaned as the new angle of her hips made everything that much more pleasurable. And with her little high-pitched squeaks distracting him from answering the question he began to pick up the pace.

"…Am I enough…" she repeated, "…enough for both…both of you?"

"…Fuck, yes! Yes…Hayley…you mean…_you mean everything to me, Ginge…"_

"I love you," she cried, wrapping her legs around him as something deep inside felt like it was about to explode.

And then, amidst all the heated chaos, Harry gently stroked her face. Her eyes darted back to his, widening in shock as she saw that one of his eyes was blue and the other was green. They were one and the same, Harry and the Goblin, beautifully complicated.

"Hayley," he implored steadily, "I love you too."

And that's when she saw fireworks. The clouds of euphoria rolled in, binding every fibre of her being to Harry Osborn, the man she loved and the Goblin she craved.

He didn't last long after that.

* * *

The soft vibration of his cell phone on the mahogany bedside table roused him. Harry shook his sleepy head and eased up into a seated position, brushing away the auburn hair that was tickling his nose. His hand landed on the small head that was laid against his bare chest. He looked down at Hayley sleeping soundly, her body curled up beside him, arm draped over his lower torso.

As slowly as possible, Harry reached for his cell, praying his movement wouldn't wake the slumbering redhead. He blinked at the too bright screen, its white light illuminating the whole room. Harry quickly glanced at Hayley who didn't move or react to the sudden light. Her breathing was deep and steady, her eyes still behind their lids, showing that she was in a deep and dreamless sleep.

Harry unlocked his phone, tracing an "H" symbol passcode with his thumb to gain access. The screen brightened more slightly, and something glinting in his peripheral vision caused him to turn his head to the right. There was a small glass bottle on top of the dresser on Hayley's side of the bed. The glare from his phone screen was making the vial sparkle, the tiny bicoloured tablets inside appearing like harmless candy.

Even from where he sat, Harry could identify the contents. The bottle was labelled with the name "Amitriptyline." He shook his head and tensed his jaw, suddenly angry that she had ingested the sleeping pills without him seeing.

After discovering the cabinet of medication in her apartment, Harry had researched all the drugs and ointments it contained. The creams were for her burn scars, but the many tablets he found concerned him. Amitriptyline was a tricyclic antidepressant prescribed to her for anxiety and insomnia. It was the same drug she had given him in Ravencroft.

Just when he was about to wake her, the forgotten phone in his hand vibrated again. He unlocked the screen once more and opened two identical texts from Kraven.

"Dexter, Emerald" was scrawled across the phone screen.

In this instance he was glad for Hayley's deception – it would make leaving the manor unnoticed in the dead of night that much easier. Confronting her about the pills would have to wait.

* * *

The stars where shining outside and the crescent moon paled in comparison to their sparkling wonder. It was a beautiful sight, one made for couples to share and individuals to gaze at in awe.

Only one saw its splendour, his green and blue eyes reflecting an inner soul burning with troubles unknown. If Hayley hadn't taken sleeping pills that night, she would have seen the sight too. But alas, she stayed asleep, her lovers absence going unnoticed…for now at least.

"_Have the police find the body_," he ordered to the hunter beside him, "_I want to send a clear message that no one messes with me and what is mine._"

"Your protective instincts served you well. Such rage you displayed. All for the lamb, yes? I'm sure she'll be pleased with his death. Though I doubt police will recognise him," Kraven commented, staring at what remained of the Russian criminal before them.

"_The important distinctive features remain; his tattoos and prints_. _They'll be able to get a match from that."_

"You have exceeded expectations. Though your flare for theatrics will not go unnoticed."

"_Good. I want her to know it was me."_

* * *

Since it was a Saturday they had both slept in, only waking around midday for something to eat.

Connolly had laid out brunch for them on the long granite table; various bowls of fruit and cereal decorated its length, with juice, milk, and pastries also available. There was so much food that it was really overwhelming for Hayley, especially since she didn't eat very much. She had grabbed a solitary bowl of cornflakes, hoping that Harry wouldn't notice since he was busy reading yesterday's paper. One of the four TVs was buzzing in the background.

Hayley kept sneaking sideways glances at Harry from across the table. She couldn't contain how happy she was and a funny coy grin was firmly fixed on her face. Though she did frown slightly when the cornflakes on her spoon dropped onto her black Metallica t-shirt; lazy Saturdays meant comfy clothes, her standard skinny jeans and t-shirt get up.

"Did you "walk" last night?" she asked suddenly as Harry put down the day-old Daily Bugle.

"Walk" and "walking" were the words they both used to refer to his nightly sleep adventures.

"Hmmm?"

"I saw some blood in the bathroom this morning, which I cleaned up. Did you cut yourself in the night? The mirrors are still intact - "

"Oh, I just had a nose bleed," Harry replied smoothly, mentally cursing himself for getting a spot of that bastard's blood in his home, defiling his possession. He picked up an apple and took a bite, before his eyes focused on what the redhead was eating. "Hayley, why are you eating dry cornflakes?"

"Because I only drink soy milk and there isn't any on the table."

"Well, did you tell Connolly to get you some?"

"No. But it's ok, I like them dry," she smirked, taking a spoonful of the barren flakes up to her mouth and crunching them extra loud.

"You're impossible sometimes."

"Prove it."

Hayley giggled at the astonished look on his face and she launched some of the flakes at him, using her spoon as a catapult. Then she shrieked with laughter when a croissant suddenly shot past her, narrowly missing her face. She leaped out of her chair and ducked down as a few grapes sailed in her direction, landing on the shiny marble floor.

A banana fell next to her with a thud. The two may be in their early twenties but no one is too old to enjoy a food fight.

"Did you just throw a banana at me Harry Osborn?" Hayley laughed incredulously, picking up the offending fruit and aiming it at his legs from beneath the table.

"You started it!" he yelped. The banana whacked his ankles making him jump, and he darted round to her side of the table.

She quickly grabbed the stray grapes surrounding her, and as soon as Harry came into view she chucked them at him like miniature cannon balls. He swatted the small fruits away easily before playfully grabbing hold of her hands and hauling her up. Then he proceeded to poke her ribs and she squirmed in his arms.

"I was trying to prove that I'm impossible!" Hayley cried, trying to find his ticklish spot, "I surrender! Just stop the tickling!"

"…BREAKING NEWS! The body of wanted man, convicted killer and Russian mob associate, Andrei Kuzmin, has been discovered by NYPD early this morning…"

Hayley stopped struggling as did Harry, both of their attention now fixed firmly on the television screen across the living area.

"…Kuzmin has most recently been sort by police in connection to the mugging and assault on Hayley Carmichael, the girlfriend of OsCorp CEO, Harry Osborn…"

Various pictures of Kuzmin flashed on screen, and Hayley turned her face away, hugging her body closer to Harry's.

"Thank god he's dead," she sobbed into his chest, "I don't want to see his face. Is he gone?"

"…Police are urging anyone who has information regarding Kuzmin's murder to come forward. Captain Sims of the NYPD will release a full statement on the incident later today, amid rumours that Kuzmin was decapitated, with a jack-o'- lantern in place of his head…"

Hayley felt her heart stop and she slowly glanced up at Harry whose face had a sickening smile upon it. The way that he stared triumphantly at Kuzmin's image, made her feel sick. Something wasn't right. She had an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach and it wasn't to do with her mugger. It was to do with his pumpkin enthusiast murderer…

"Harry – "

"…scandal surrounding Hayley Carmichael's involvement with the young tycoon has surfaced this morning. Pictures, taken by a reliable source, have emerged showing Carmichael fraternising with an unidentified young male…"

On the television screen the news displayed three grainy images taken with an amateur's camera. Hayley could be seen clearly, her distinctive auburn hair a dead give away. She had her shopping bags in hand, with the graveyard gates serving as her backdrop. The young man had his back to the camera, concealing his identity. All that could be defined was the man's tall and slender frame, ruffled spiked brown hair and a baggy red hoody.

Hayley swallowed as the arms encasing her tightened dangerously to the point of pain. If only she hadn't worn her hair in a plait yesterday. The style was so different from her usual sleek ponytail that Harry was bound to realise the pictures on the news were taken less than twenty hours ago. The photographs revealed where she had been yesterday, why she was late getting back to Osborn Manor, to Harry. They uncovered her secretly meeting another man.

And Harry didn't need to see the man's face to know that it was Peter Parker.

In a flash, he pushed the redhead out of his arms in disgust. Hayley stumbled and slipped on the floor, smacking her back and head against the marble pillar behind her. She shook her head from side to side, trying to make sense of her surroundings as her vision started to swim from dizziness. Then she felt an excruciatingly bruising grip around her dainty neck.

"Did you think I would not find out? Did you? How long has this been going on?" Harry seethed, constricting her airways with his punishing fingers. He could feel her delicate skin breaking beneath his nails, cutting little half moon shapes around her neck.

Hayley tried desperately to suck in much needed air. "Harry, I – "

"How long? How many times have you seen him behind my back?" he demanded, his eyes a milky way of blue and green rage.

"Ha – "

"HOW MANY?"

Harry slackened his hold to allow her to speak, though kept his hand loosely in position. The trembling radiating from her body made him feel powerful and he drank in her fear. His body loomed over her, restraining Hayley with his hand and penetrating stare alone.

"Twice…" she squeaked, "…Twice a week since you've been back at work. I'm so sorry, I was – "

"What? YOU WERE WHAT?" Harry yelled. He pulled her away from the pillar before whacking her head back in anger.

"L-lonely," stuttered Hayley, seeing dark spots in front of her eyes, her body shaking, "I was lonely. You ignored - "

"I'm suddenly not enough for you, is that it? Did last night not mean anything to you?"

"Yes! Yes, it meant everything to me Harry! I love – "

"NO! No, don't say it," Harry enraged, bringing his middle finger up to her lips in silence. He intensified his hold on her neck, hissing at her through his teeth, "You're just like him! You've. Betrayed. ME!"

"No, Harry, please – "

"Let her go Harry!"

Hayley shifted her gaze from Harry's too close face, and fleetingly looked over his shoulder, her eyes widening at the red and blue vigilante standing behind them. Her neck started to burn again and she brought her focus back to the man squeezing her throat. Harry wanted her to acknowledge him and only him, not his archenemy, Spider-Man. He didn't need to turn around. Harry instantly recognised the voice of the man who was standing uninvited in his home.

"This just confirms _everything!" _Harry laughed manically, shaking his head in disbelief, though his eyes never left the redhead. With a forlorn grin on his face, he mocked his former friend, "You would be here wouldn't you!"

"Let her go Harry!" Spider-Man repeated, slowly inching away from the open window he had come through.

"You should really choose your words more carefully," Harry snarled turning his head to glare at Spider-Man, "But then, we aren't flying over a clock tower so – " he released Hayley who crumpled to the ground breathing heavily. "See? No harm done. Must only be blondes who are weak!"

Spider-Man glared at Harry through the large eyes of his suit, "You take that back, Harry, take it back!"

"There's nothing to take back, she's dead. _I_ didn't do anything – _you did."_

"That's a lie and you know it!"

"I'm legally a free man! Whereas you are nothing but a vigilante posing a threat to society – "

"If you believe that then you're crazy Harry."

"Crazy? Crazy! No, what's _crazy_ is that you would try and steal what is mine! _Yet another betrayal!" _

"How can you be so blind? The Harry Osborn I knew – "

"_IS DEAD! HE IS DEAD! THERE IS NOTHING LEFT OF HIM!"_

"That's not true," Hayley shouted from the ground, making the two men look over at her. She tried to stand, every movement slow and painfully precise, angry purple bruises flowering around her throat. "That's not true Harry – "

"_Shut up! You know_ _nothing about me!" _he yelled, kicking at her legs so that she fell to the ground once more, "_All you know is that psycho-bullshit you make up so you can sleep better at night!" _Then he turned to face the man in red and blue_, "But Spider-Man, he knows the real me. Am I right?" _

Spider-Man shook his head sadly, "I don't know what to believe anymore."

"_Why so melancholy? Oh, that's right: I took all your hope away!" _

"I can take away yours too, Harry," Spider-Man said simply, glancing over to where Hayley was using the pillar to support herself as she tried to stand again.

In an instant, Harry's face contorted from antagonising anger into pure fear, as he realised what was about to happen. "NO! BRING HER BACK P – "

And the rest of his words were lost as Hayley felt something strange and very strong grab hold of her arm, tugging her very fast in the direction of an open window.

The last thing she saw was Harry's pained face getting smaller and smaller…

She closed her eyes tightly, and she heard yells and birds and cars and air buzzing deafeningly in her ears. There was even a high-pitched scream that she quickly realised was her own. Protective arms were gasping her but she didn't feel safe at all. Her stomach started to churn like she was on a reckless rollercoaster, zooming backwards and forwards, up and down, round and round with no sense of direction. And when she did finally muster the courage to open her eyes, Hayley discovered that she was indeed flying high in the sky, the world an entire blur.

"I thought you said you could handle it!"

"What?" Hayley yelled, unable to hear Spider-Man over the rush of the wind in her ears as they sailed past buildings at break neck speed.

She heard him try a few more times to speak to her but her own screams stifled any conversation. Every time he shot out a new web line, Hayley would shriek that much louder, absolutely terrified at seeing monstrous skyscrapers everywhere she looked. They got dangerously close to many buildings, and Hayley wondered if this was how she was meant to die.

"Please stop! I hate flying! I'm going to be sick!"

After a couple more minutes of nauseous swinging, they swirled to a firm stop on the roof of a building in some random part of New York, Hayley knew not where.

"Where the hell are we? You have to take me back to Harry!"

"I thought you said you could handle it!" Spider-Man yelled, his gloved hands clenching and unclenching in frustration as he paced before her. "But you can't can you? You're just too stubborn to ask for help. He could have killed you – "

"Peter?"

Hayley stared and her mouth went dry as the tall man before her slowly stopped pacing. His shoulders sagged and the spider reached up to his face, removing the red mask. Her emerald eyes widened, the mystery behind the great betrayal finally revealed.

"I'm Spider-Man."

* * *

**Confession; the sexiness was meant to happen a few chaps back, but I wanted to do something special for the holidays, and chap 25 seemed too perfect not to wait until then!**

**For you eagle eyed people, yes, it's not a coincidence that chapter 25 has been posted on the 25****th ****(UK time)! This is my Christmas present to you all! **

**MERRY CHRISTMAS! Happy Holidays, and happy every type of celebrations you may or may not be having today :D**

**I want to thank each and every one of you for taking your time to read and be on this journey with Harry, Hayley, (and me). I could never have dreamt we'd get this far, seriously, your support has meant the world to me. I am always stunned and amazed by how wonderful you all are - I have a feeling this fic is going to be a long one, I see no end in sight yet!**

**MUCH LOVE XXX and have a happy New Year! See you in 2015 moose's :D **

**P.S, Sorry I haven't replied to the reviews from chapter 24 - I will get on it!**


	26. Chapter 26

**Featured song**: _(We Could Be) Heroes_ – Alesso ft Tove Lo / _Torn Apart – _Bastille Vs. Grades

* * *

**I do not own Spider-Man, The Amazing Spider-Man 2 movie, video game or anything related to the Marvel franchise and all that jazz! But maybe I own a moose in Alaska…or maybe not haha!**

* * *

"You…you're…you're Spider-Man… you're Spider-Man…"

Peter ducked down his head guiltily, twisting the spider's mask in his hands as he stood before the astonished redhead.

"I can't believe it. This whole time…how did I not see…you were in plain sight…" Hayley stuttered, her eyes unable to leave the vigilante.

How had she not seen it? It was so obvious!

Her mind was a jumbled mess as she tried to process this momentous piece of information. All the signs were there, plain as day! Memories and past conversations started to flash before her, all the puzzle pieces finally fitting together. The great secret, the betrayal, Gwen's death – it all started to make sense. But now that she knew the truth, a small part of her wished she didn't.

Life had just become even more confusing and complicated.

The months of countless lies from Peter, from Harry, from everyone she thought she knew…it was too much.

This changed everything.

She clamped her eyes shut wanting desperately for this to all be some elaborate dream her mind had concocted. The whole situation was even more fucked up and complex than Hayley had initially realised. It was like she had begun to chip away at an iceberg, only to discover that beneath the water there was a colossal mound of icy deceptions and deceit.

Opening her tear filled eyes, Hayley quickly glanced at the tall red and blue blur, before shutting them again. Then she repeated the same action in quick succession, over and over, not understand why all this chaos wasn't going away. She tried to focus on the man before her, tried to truly accept who he really was.

Through the tears, all she saw was a stranger.

It all looked wrong. Peter's face on Spider-Man's body…it was just wrong. If she hadn't just flown among Manhattan's skyscrapers, then she honestly would have believed that Peter was mucking about, trying to get back at Harry. However, this was not a game. It was real.

This was real.

More small tears leaked from beneath her lashes and speckled down her face as she stared upwards to the clear blue sky, praying to the gods to give her strength.

"Hay – "

"DON'T!" she shrieked, stumbling away when Peter moved closer. "This isn't real…this isn't happening! You're not…but you are…say that you're not. Please say that you're not!"

"I am. I'm Spider-Man," Peter repeated shaking his head sadly. He didn't want it to come out like this, but he had no choice.

"All this time?"

"Yes."

"So, when I saw Spider-Man flying through China Town…that was you?"

"Yes."

"And on the news when you were fighting Electro and the Rhino and the destruction in Alphabet City…that was you?" Hayley spoke hysterically her voice trembling slightly as each new lie uncovered cut through her like a knife.

"Yes," he said simply, shame and guilt weighing down on him for being so deceptive to one he called friend. In that moment, he was taken back to the night Harry had discovered the truth – Hayley wore the same face bathed in devastating hurt. "I wanted to tell you, really I did, but I couldn't. I would have told you sooner if – "

"All the times when we met to visit Gwen…did you only want to talk to me for information? To keep tabs on Harry?"

Peter sighed. "At first, like, yeah, yes. I needed to make sure that he wasn't ever going to leave Ravencroft."

"When I bumped into you outside my apartment, on the subway, at Whole Foods – none of that was coincidence was it?" the redhead accused correctly, "You were watching me, weren't you?"

"Well – "

"Wait! At the gala…was that you Peter? Did you follow me when I jumped from the taxi? Were you the man who called the ambulance? The cops?"

Peter gave a small cowardly nod, not even daring to speak a word of confirmation. He felt too ashamed.

Clutching her stomach, Hayley bent over and threw up her small breakfast of dry cornflakes, creating a beautiful mess of orange flakes and vomit. She let out a soft forlorn moan and noticed that by her feet there were teeny tiny wet patches where her tears had marked the stone roof. Then her stomach heaved again and she crouched down low, curling herself inwards.

Hayley wanted to disappear. The truth was too painful; the multitude of secrets was too much to handle.

"Why didn't you save me?" she asked quietly, her voice cracking in raw sadness, "Why didn't Spider-Man save me?"

Walking forward cautiously, Peter mimicked the redhead and crouched down to her level, not wanting to be imposing or threatening in his stature.

"I did try. Believe me, I did," he implored, "I lost sight of you in the back alleys. And then I was too late. I didn't have my spider suit with me, so I couldn't – "

"I defended you! So _many_ times Harry would fly into a rage when I mentioned your name, mentioned Spider-Man's name," she recalled frantically, suddenly standing and moving away from her deceiver. "I thought it was just a part of his psychosis because of what happened at the clock tower…god, how could I have been so fucking stupid?"

Her stomach churned again making Hayley double over and start to retch. Fortunately her stomach contents had only consisted of cornflakes so nothing else came up. Hopefully her queasiness would pass though she doubted it.

She was finding it hard to breathe. The people she knew, the world that she lived in, it was all starting to crumble. Beneath Hayley's chest, her heart was racing from the stress of finally learning such a mind-blowing secret. All she could do was squat down again, away from her vomit, and concentrate on sucking in much needed air into her lungs.

Peter stood and moved away from the redhead slowly, trying to give her as much space as she needed. He knew that revealing his secret identity would be difficult for her to accept, but he had honestly hoped it would go better than this. Gwen had taken it so well, and he was wrong in projecting his need for acceptance onto Hayley.

_Hayley is not Gwen, _Peter reminded himself heavily. _She is far more complicated._

"You can't just decide to play hero and whisk me away whenever you feel like it, you know," Hayley glared up at him, her eyes ablaze with anger.

"God sake, Hayley, he was going to kill you!" Peter groaned throwing his hands up in frustration, getting thoroughly annoyed at having to repeat himself constantly.

It seemed like they were always having the same conversation over and over, dancing around the same topic but never coming to any solution.

"No he wasn't Parker!"

"How can you be so stupid Carmichael? He had you by your throat, choking the life from you! I saw it! I am trying, seriously, I am _trying_ to protect you! Harry is dangerous."

"Is that what Spider-Man does Peter? He rescues the damsel in distress and then the whole of New York will love him again? Is that it?" Hayley spat sarcastically, brushing away the wisps of auburn hair that had blown across her face.

"It's not like that…I…Spider-Man is a symbol. He fights crime and protects all the citizens of New York, all of them. Including you."

"Does that include Harry? Hmmm?" Hayley tried to reason, already knowing the answer, "I thought not. He deserves a hero to save him too!"

"And is that hero going to be you?" Peter retorted, his fists clenching his mask again whilst he started to pace agitatedly. "You can't see yourself. Your neck is purple! I can even see finger marks! Why would you go back to that? Why do you keep going back to him?"

Hayley knew how her relationship with Harry appeared to everyone, what the surface of her iceberg looked like. Control. Abuse. Domestic violence. A warped sense of Stockholm syndrome. Dominant and submissive. Erotic Transference. Whatever you wanted to call it, everyone believed that her relationship with Harry was a lie.

Being a psychiatrist, she had seen it all, and it was not like that with him.

She understood exactly what people thought when they noticed strange bruises and cuts on her arms caused from Harry's nightly terrors. The redhead could accept what the hospital staff believed when the X-ray of her broken fingers had been examined. Hayley knew why Peter had assumed what he did when he found Harry with his hand around her throat.

And she also knew that the answer to Peter's question would never satisfy him.

"Why Hayley? Why?"

"Because…because I love him!"

"No, you don't. You don't, you only think that you do! He's manipulated you – "

She had had enough of people commenting on her relationship with Harry.

Jumping to her feet, Hayley leapt the short distance between herself and Peter, before drawing back her hand, punching him square in the jaw.

"How dare you Peter Parker!" she yelled in his face, "How. Dare. YOU!"

Peter darted back and away from the gutsy redhead, staring at her in disbelief. "I'm starting to think you're a lost cause Carmichael," he said regretfully, bringing a hand to his jaw and clicking it.

"You've already written Harry off, so you might as well give up on me too," Hayley commented bitterly, gritting her teeth from the pain that was now shooting up her arm.

She clutched at the hand that had punched Peter, the hand that now had a broken plaster cast crumbling away from her fingers. No doubt she probably had more fractured fingers now, judging from the way that they were pulsing with white-hot pain. Violence was never something she would ever resort too, but he had over stepped the line.

"Give up on me! Leave me alone and just forget about me! I will never stop loving him, so, _please_, just give up."

"Why can't you see that he used you?" Peter fought back, his face looking uncharacteristically hard as deep seeded hate and resentment started to bubble through the cracks in his web. "He played you Hayley! He was going to spend life in prison for his crimes! He is only free because of you! Because. Of. You! All he had to do was turn on the Osborn charm and then he had you, hook, line, and sinker!"

"It wasn't like that."

"Then how was it? Did he make you feel special? Needed? Wanted? He has that effect on all the girls, on all the models he's dated," Peter chuckled darkly, "Harry told me once that he doesn't do complicated. So why is he with you? Hmmm? You are _exceptionally _complicated."

"I don't know why he chose me, ok, I have no idea. But you can't just tear us apart like this! It's non of your business – "

"Mother Hub-He _used _you! Did he even tell you how Gwen really died? Or do you still believe all the lies he spouted in court? Even you said that he has a dark side. After all you have seen him do, all the things he has done, all that he has put you through, is it really that much of a stretch to believe that he could have killed her? Is it?"

Hayley paused and thought of how he had killed Kinsey without a second thought. How quick he was to fly into a rage and attack Menken. How controlling and short-tempered Harry could be. She thought of the suspicious and paralysing feeling that rippled through her body at seeing the smug grin on his face when Andrei Kuzmin's death was reported on the news.

In her heart, Hayley knew he had probably killed Kuzmin.

She swallowed thickly, noting how much her neck hurt and felt tender under the bruises Harry's punishing grip had caused. "Tell me how she died," Hayley asked quietly, trying to gain control of the situation. "I need to know the truth."

"We all have secrets: the ones we keep…and the ones kept from us. Do you really want to know?"

Hayley nodded.

Sighing, Peter ran his shaking hands through his scruffy hair. He opened and closed his mouth, the words getting lost on the tip of his tongue from how painful the memory was to speak out loud. Reliving that night was something Peter rarely did. The emotions were consuming, the tears never ending, the grief devastating. But if it would help Hayley to understand how monstrous his old friend was, then so be it.

He was just about to speak when Hayley beat him to it.

"Did you kill her?"

"WHAT? Christ, Hayley, how can you ask me that?" Peter cried, the hurt evident in his eyes and voice. "Fuck! Do you seriously believe I would? That I could?"

"I don't know what to believe anymore," she answered truthfully, hugging her uninjured arm around her waist, shivering as the cool air nipped beneath her thin t-shirt.

"Look, we were at the power plant, Gwen and me. I had just defeated Electro, and then Harry flies in on some sort of glider. He was all green, and I-I-I didn't know what to do. He figured out that I was Spider-Man as soon as he saw Gwen. Then he grabbed her and flew off."

It was very apparent how it pained him to speak the truth, and Hayley wished there was another way. She could tell from the tremor in his voice, from the water in his brown sorrowful eyes that having to recall the events leading to Gwen's death was extremely traumatic for him.

"I raced after them until I was standing on the nearby clock tower. Harry was too far above me to reach with my webbing, and he was holding her. I told him to put her down, to let her go…I told him to…" Peter sniffed, his Adam's apple bobbing as he tried to swallow away the memory, to control his intense grief. "…And that's when…when he dropped her."

"He…you mean…he just…" Hayley trailed off hardly believing what she was hearing. Her thoughts went back to what Harry had muttered as he held her throat, pompously bragging at how blondes were weak. "Then what happened?"

"I caught her and we fell through the glass," replied Peter shakily, "Then he dropped this orange bomb, some sort of OsCorp grenade, I don't know, it looked like a pumpkin. It exploded and I grabbed Gwen with my web, putting her safely on a cog below us. Harry came down and we fought until he fell off his glider."

He paused, his voice faltering over the words of the memory that he knew by heart but never wanted to remember.

Hayley was hanging onto his every word.

"The glider flew straight towards Gwen and then suddenly she was falling down the tower. I caught her again and then Harry grabbed me and he had a knife. All the cogs we turning. I had Gwen on one arm, on my web, and Harry on the other trying to kill me, but, I wasn't strong enough…I-I tried to save her, I did, but he, I…I was too late…she fell…a-and…she was dead."

Peter sank to his knees and brought the spider's mask to his face in an attempt to conceal the steady stream of tears pouring down his face. He was a broken man, vulnerable and exposed before her. And Hayley was at a loss of what to do, what to say, to make his world right again.

It reminded her of the many times in Ravencroft when Harry was defeated in a confusion of muddled emotions and exhausting pain.

The two boys were so alike in many ways.

Both abandoned by their fathers in some shape or form. Harry's emotional development had been compromised without any stable loving relationship, whereas Peter had his aunt and uncle to guide him. They had both gone through so much. So much loss, so much pain and anguish. The thing they both now had in common was Hayley. They needed her equally, to support and love them at this moment in time; one as a partner and lover, whilst the other as a friend.

And she could only choose one.

Ultimately, someone would get hurt.

In her mind, all Hayley could hear was Harry's screams for her during his electrical torture. She could hear his three line mantra about darkness on repeat, the one he uttered that night when she discovered him distraught and broken in the shattered bathroom. It was clear who needed her more, but she wanted desperately to comfort Peter, to help him with his grief, to make sense of all the pain and sadness.

Then she went and said something stupid.

"The…the whiplash killed her."

"What?"

"In-in the coroner's report, it said…said that she had sustained whiplash and blunt force trauma to her head," Hayley spluttered, hopelessly trying to hold back her sobs. "She...she d-d-died on impact. You both are…re-re-responsible."

Falling to her knees, she sobbed loudly, the emotion of finally having the full story tearing through her body. Her shoulders shook with such ferocity as she screamed and wept for Gwen, for herself, for Peter, for Harry, for them all.

More than anything she wanted to run away and hide and scream until she had no voice left. She was alone in this world, a world that she barely knew anymore. Hayley could feel it slipping through her fingers, the fantasy of heroes and villains blurring together until everything she knew was based on the reality of lies upon lies.

And all she could think about was Harry.

Looking upward, Hayley screamed at the sky as tiny droplets of rain began to pitter-patter down onto her, soaking her skin and auburn hair. She cried until she couldn't cry anymore, until all that was left was raw truth. It left her feeling bitter and cold.

Hayley hugged her arms tightly around her body, careful to not jostle her painful fingers. She began to feel the strong autumnal chill whistling around her, and the skin beneath her t-shirt started to get goose pimples.

That was when she suddenly became very aware that she was kneeling on the roof of a very tall skyscraper.

"You need to take me back now!" Hayley managed to croak quietly. Sensing movement she glanced over to see Peter, standing tall, putting on his Spider-Man mask. "Peter, you need to – "

"I can't do that," he muttered clearly through the vigilante's guise.

"Who knows what he'll do with me gone! He must be going crazy! He could kill someone!"

"Yeah he probably will, and if I take you back it'll probably be you."

"Parker, you are creating a monster out of him! By doing this you could have accelerated his goblin psychosis. All the progress he has made will be for nothing," the redhead pleaded.

"You can't ask this of me, of Spider-Man," Peter replied bitterly, wishing that he didn't have to make these difficult decisions alone. "I will not be made responsible for another death. I will not take you back to that abuse."

"Please, I can save him - "

"And who is going to save you? This ends now Hayley. You have to choose; him or me."

Hayley replied without a second thought. "I choose Harry," she whispered tearfully, "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too," Spider-Man sighed miserably, giving the redhead one last fleeting look before shooting out a web line from his wrist.

As soon as he started to run towards the edge of the roof, Hayley saw everything in slow motion. She watched mesmerized as Spider-Man sprinted past her, gripping the webbing in his hands like a slingshot, propelling him high into the sky. He did a somersault twist before diving off the roof and out of sight, down to the streets far below.

"Peter come back!" Hayley screamed racing to the roof's edge, "You can't leave me up here! PETER!"

* * *

It had taken Hayley five hours to get back to the Osborn Manor.

After Peter had left her stranded on the roof, she had cried and screamed some more until a very mystified businessman came out the fire escape door hoping to have a quiet cigarette break. She had completely missed the door in her hysterical state.

Now that she could get off the roof and back onto the solid sidewalk, a new panic started to set in. How to get back to Harry?

All Hayley had with her were the clothes she was wearing - a thin black Metallica t-shirt and skinny jeans. There was nothing in her pockets, no phone, no purse, and no money. Nothing.

So all she could do was try and follow the subway stations and find her way back home that way.

The weather had turned sour as soon as Peter left, in an almost prophetic sign of what had just occurred and of the many things to come. The chilling wind flurried around Hayley's slight frame making her shiver uncontrollably. It didn't help matters that the sparse and gentle droplets of rain had now turned into a monsoon of biting daggers forever stabbing icily against her bare skin. She knew that she must look horrendous with red bloodshot eyes, soaked through clothing, limp hair, and painful bruises on her neck. Passers-by with their umbrellas and zipped up tight raincoats stared at her like a leper, their eyes widening in shock at her broken appearance. For once, Hayley did not care what people thought of her. Their concerned stares were completely lost on her – they lived in a different world entirely. The citizens of New York were home in a place were good fought evil, heroes triumphed over villains, light dissipated the infected darkness.

Only Hayley knew different.

She envied their blind stupidity, and wished that she could go back to that state of delirium. It reminded her of how Neo was unplugged from the Matrix and born into a world of stark reality. Now that she had been reborn, Hayley wanted nothing more than to go back and get plugged into the fantasy of comforting illusions. But to do that would be wishing to have never met Harry, and really, there was no turning back from that.

Instead she focused on the one achievable thing – getting back to Harry before nightfall.

When Hayley finally returned, exhausted from her epic journey, she barely had the energy to knock on the heavy oak door of Osborn Manor.

The butler, Connolly, opened the door, his eyes going wide as soon as he saw her. "Miss Carmichael! Where have you been? The young master is in such a state. You must go to him."

Hayley nodded and gave a small strained smile, showing that she understood. "Where…is…he?" she managed to ask through wheezed breaths.

"Upstairs. He hasn't left, though I'm fairly certain he has tried," Connolly said appraising the redhead, "You look to be in a similar condition. I'll bring you some hot cocoa in an hour."

"Thank you Connolly," Hayley smiled warmly, giving the butler a salute before slowly making her ascent up numerous staircases to get to the penthouse.

Her bones ached and her movements were heavy as she carefully moved on upwards.

It was warm inside the manor but Hayley's teeth were still chattering and her limps were shaking from the intense frigid weather outside. It felt like her body was rejecting the much-needed toasty heat that surrounded her. All Hayley wanted was to accept the warmth, for her bones to no longer be painfully cold. A hot shower was in order, but she suspected that returning to Harry wouldn't be that easy.

Standing outside the door that led into the penthouse, Hayley listened intently from the corridor. It was quiet, almost too quiet for her liking, though it was probably better to return to desolate silence than rage filled noise. Her hand went to the handle, and it was then that she noticed how it quivered.

She was afraid. Afraid of what she might find and terrified that Harry would reject her for her betrayal, like he had done so to Peter.

_You chose this you idiot, _Hayley's mind chastised. _You chose Harry, this life! There's no going back. Deal with it!_

Her mini pep talk must have done the trick because suddenly she was turning the handle and opening the door.

As soon as she stepped inside, thin arms wrapped around her in happiness.

"Hayley! Oh my god, where have you been?" Felicia whispered joyfully, before releasing the redhead to look her over, "You look like a drowned sewer rat!"

"I – "

"We thought you'd been kidnapped!" the brunette hissed urgently, glancing over her shoulder as if someone were behind them.

Hayley looked past Felicia to see that the suite was still intact apart from the grey couches and blue seats being upturned. Other than that nothing appeared to be out of place. Even the fruit and pastries from their breakfast food fight had been cleaned up. One thing Hayley did noticed was that the bedroom door was shut with James the bodyguard standing sentinel beside it.

"Kidnapped?" she asked bewildered, almost forgetting the situation entirely in her relief at returning to a some what calm home. "Why would you think…wait, why are you here?"

"Harry rang me and started screaming down the phone about you going missing and that he was coming to OsCorp to find his glider and body suit," Felicia explained in a hushed and hurried voice. "I managed to convince him that I would bring the equipment to the manor so that he wouldn't get caught. Then I came here as quick as I could and phoned James and Pete. It took us three hours to restrain and calm him down."

"What? What's he done? What did he try to do?"

"He's basically destroyed the bathroom mirrors…and his neck…his face…"

"Fe, what's happened to him?" Hayley asked adamantly, her worry only growing with how stressed and tense Felicia seemed to be.

"He's completely green and the wound on his neck is black, I think it's infected."

"Shit."

"And he doesn't sound like himself," enlightened Felicia, her hazel eyes continuously looking over at the bedroom door as if behind it concealed a monster…which it did. "The day he became the Goblin, I saw him leave OsCorp on the glider. He spoke to me. His voice was full of venom, grit, and ice cold…he sounds just like that now."

Inside, Hayley's heart was starting to pound violently as panic began to infect her body. "I'll go to him – "

"Wait! You can't! He thinks you're dead!" Felicia cried, holding the redhead back when she tried to move from the doorway.

"WHAT?"

"Shhh, Hayley! I tried to tell him otherwise but he's convinced you're dead."

"How? Why?" Hayley spluttered – now she was really panicking.

"He said that Spider-Man was seeking revenge and took away his hope just like Harry did to the spider," Felicia explained frantically, almost as hysterical as the redhead. "When he's not rambling about that, he says that he choked you to death and he thinks I've hidden your body."

"Are you serious?" Hayley glanced down at Felicia's fidgeting hands to see fresh scratches on her arms. "Are _you_ ok? Did he do that to you?"

"It's nothing really. _You _look far worse…your neck Hay…you look…he's in a bad way," the brunette confessed with a sigh. Then she looked Hayley right in the eye, "You need to take it slow. He's like a caged animal…just…be careful."

"I will."

Hayley tried to offer her friend a comforting smile but it didn't quite reach her eyes. In turn, Felicia squeezed the redhead's hand. They both knew the severity of the situation, and that they were the keepers of a great secret. The secret that the Goblin had returned. That Harry and his green Id were one and the same.

Quietly, Hayley tiptoed past the brunette and made her away across the living area of the penthouse.

The vast open plan room was dark and full of shadows, but she weaved daintily in and around the furniture, knowing the route from memory. Though she did almost trip over a fallen cushion.

She nodded at James, and the bodyguard gave her a once over look before moving to open the bedroom door for her.

As she entered, Hayley expected to see destruction but was again pleasantly surprised to only find a few dumped expensive shirts, still on their hangers, littering the mahogany floor. The bed was perfectly made with a lone white shirt neatly folded on the covers. Hayley skimmed her hand over the fabric as she crossed the room. A sad smile fell across her lips when she realised that it was the shirt she wore the night Harry saw her scars.

"Is…is he in there?" Hayley whispered.

Pete was standing guard of the bathroom door and gave her a stern nod. "I'll stay out here in case I'm needed."

"I'm sure it'll be fine," she said a little optimistically.

"You wouldn't be saying that if you saw him a couple of hours ago," Pete muttered truthfully. It had been hard enough to stop him hurting the brunette girl, let alone calm him down. "I said I'd keep you safe when Mr Osborn can't…and that includes from himself."

"I understand."

The bodyguard opened the door and stepped aside for her to enter, before slowly closing it again.

She noticed him instantly even though he seemed oblivious to her presence.

Harry was sat on the ground leaning against the shower glass walls. His eyes were closed, head back, and turned away from the door. The skin of his face appeared shiny, almost damp with a mixture of sweat, blood and serous fluid from a putrid sore on his cheek. His hair was like a birds nest, with his usual sleek style now caked in blood and sweat. Black and blue raised veins could be seen mapping their course all over his body. The worst sore on his neck, which Hayley could not see from where she stood, appeared to have a larger and more darkened green pigment surrounding the area.

He was wearing a grey shirt that he hadn't worn this morning and it was unbuttoned, revealing fresh lesions weeping and bleeding on his chest and torso. His whole body was completely green in colour with only small patches of normal pink flesh. The black skinny jeans he loved we ripped and bloody, as were his bare feet.

Large shards of the newly repaired mirror covered the floor, just like the previous time he had broke it. Though this time bloody footprints and leather shoe scuffmarks accompanied the glass. There had clearly been a struggle and the bruising was evident on his arms where he had obviously been restrained.

His chest was heaving steadily which was a good sign.

However, Harry looked exhausted; the severity of the day's events had taken their toll on his body. He was the worst she had ever seen him. In Ravencroft he had nothing to loose, whereas now he looked like he had lost everything he had ever held dear.

It was all the confirmation Hayley needed to know that she had chosen the right man.

As usual, Harry was muttering his usual three-line mantra, but like Felicia had warned, his voice had a monstrous edge.

"…_You are the shadow...I am the dark…."_

She shook her head sadly. _How had it got to this?_ Hayley thought.

"…_You are the shadow...I am the dark…."_

"I will always be longing for you to begin spiralling downward."

Instantly Harry turned towards the sudden familiar voice. _"Ginge?"_ he asked, the equal amounts of fear and hope in his voice made Hayley's heart break.

She stood awkwardly in the doorway and held up her hand in a pathetic attempt of a friendly wave. "Hi."

Those piercing troubled green eyes were deep like oceans with the ferocity of emotion reflected in them. The disbelieving relief was so potent that Hayley could barely believe herself that this was the same man who held her by her throat earlier this morning.

The Goblin started to scramble across the disastrous floor, seeming to be unaware that he could get cut at any moment. His movements were jerky and animalistic in their haste, and Hayley could say rather sadly that he had never looked more like a fairytale monster than in that moment. It took a lot of concentration to not flinch at his unnatural crawling. She almost had to cast her eyes away so as not to be fearful of him.

As soon as he was kneeling before her, Harry hesitantly reached forward to touch her. It was a child like gesture, as if his mind had created a test, and that she would magically disappear in a puff of smoke if he were to give in to the need to touch her. When his fingers dared to feel her legs, a wave of euphoric relief washed over him. He grabbed her legs and buried his face into the bottom of her damp t-shirt.

Hayley swallowed thickly as tears pricked in her eyes at the horror of seeing him undone in this way.

"_You're here? You're alive?" _he questioned, hanging on to her hips with his hands, his voice muffled as he clung as close as possible to her. Then the Goblin glanced up to see her face but frowned when he spotted her neck. "_Why did you come back?"_

"I told you I'd never leave you," Hayley said truthfully, kindly stroking his hair in a soothing manner.

"_I-I-I…he took you away." _

"I know."

"_He wanted to take you from me, to destroy us,"_ the Goblin wailed.

It was strange to see the Goblin in such a state of disarray. Normally his character was more hard, venomous, void of any humanity. But now it seemed that when Harry's hope had been taken, his strong Id had also crumbled.

"I know Goblin."

"_You were gone. He took you away, no, tore you from me. He stole what is rightfully mine!"_

Hayley ignored his possessive babbling and rolled her eyes but did not interrupt him.

"_You are my hope! My light! He made a mistake taking you from me," _seethed the Goblin, gripping her hips harshly as the vengeful anger started to return. "_But you…you were a very bad girl Ginge, lying to me, deceiving me, flirting with the enemy." _

She bit the side of her cheek as Harry's nails dug into her hipbones. "I'm sorry," Hayley apologised, knowing full well that it would feed the dark Id's ego. "I'm sorry for lying…but you lied to me too."

The painful hands the held her went slack.

Slowly, Harry rose until he was stood only a few inches taller than her, and he stared intensely into the redhead's eyes. His hand reached for a wisp of her hair and he stroked it between his fingertips.

He smirked as he goaded her,_ "Did I?"_

"Yes. You lied about many, many things, you and Harry," Hayley replied stiffly, standing her ground, "And it hurts. You hurt me."

"_But I would never hurt you," _the Goblin said genuinely though his eyes sparkled darkly.

"You have and you did," she whispered, reaching up to take his hand from her hair and pressed it gently to her bruised neck. "See this? You left your mark on me. And I know in your heart that you would never intentionally hurt me, but you have…and you need to stop. How can I help you, stay with you, if you do this to me?"

The Goblin gently ghosted his fingers over her purple and blue skin. He smiled at her fondly, _"Do you remember the first time we met?"_

"Of course."

"_You were such a slight little thing that I barely saw you amongst the chaos," _murmured the Goblin. Slowly he moved his hand down to her collarbones, tracing their lines to emphasise how slight and tiny she was._ "As soon as you touched me, I knew_," he purred, the Osborn flirtatious charm oozing from him.

"You knew what?" Hayley breathed, unable to tear her eyes away from his. She blushed as his hand moved down further, caressing her breastbone, his toxic intensity making her blush. "You knew…knew what?"

"_I knew that you had to die," _he said simply,_ "When I broke those delicate twig like fingers of yours the first time, I made a vow to myself that when I was free, you would be the first to die."_

Hayley swallowed and her whole body started to tremble as the green tinged hand moved up and away from her breast and back onto her neck. She winced slightly as Harry's fingers loosely held her throat once more.

Using his thumb, the Goblin stroked her chin and brushed over her vibrating lips. _"I've killed two people for you." _

"I-I-I know."

"_So you see, I broke that promise," _the Goblin reasoned. He quickly glanced away from her face, suddenly appearing nervous. _"And now that I'm free, you are the one person I do not wish to kill. I do not wish for you to ever die."_

Hayley smiled. "I'm not going anywhere Goblin. Not away from you or Harry."

"_No more secret meetings Ginge?"_ he questioned although the statement was a direct order.

"No. Never. I'll never see the spider again."

"_Good,"_ the Goblin smirked, "_Because I'd like to keep you all to myself."_

At such an enticing statement, Hayley's heart started to flutter as his grinning lips descended upon her. She started melt against his familiar body, relieved that he still wanted her, that she was forgiven, that her betrayal had been wavered in the name of love. Or maybe should she say lust, as Harry's hands danced over her neck, her back, and her bum. There was a hungry and possessive need in the way he grabbed at her. It seemed like he wanted to relearn her body again, checking to make sure that she was entirely his.

When Harry licked her bottom lip, she was just about to moan out loud when he suddenly moved away sharply. Hayley mewled in disappointment and opened her green eyes to see him watching her seriously.

"_You are enough for me Ginge. And I, I am enough for you. We were born to be together," _he commanded as he moved one of his hands from gripping her ass to clutch the back of her sore neck, "_Because it hurts doesn't it? It hurts like hell to be apart from me."_

"Yes."

"_Perfect," _he grinned, the sexual tension between the two easing slightly. "_So glad we understand each other."_

"Do you want to know something kinda cool?" she asked randomly, nervously shifting in his arms, "I ticked off a point on my bucket list today."

The Goblin rolled his eyes but decided to play ball. _"Did you?"_

"Yeah. I punched Spider-Man in the face."

A cold and darkly victorious chuckle emanated from his smirking lips. _"How did it feel?"_ he purred, as he caressed the auburn hair at the back of her neck.

Hayley paused slightly, caught a little off guard by such an unusual question.

"How did it _feel?" _she asked looking at him strangely,_ "_You mean, when I punched him?"

"No," Harry replied, the smoothness of his natural voice returning, "How did it feel finding out that the arachnid was Parker?"

"Crushing. Devastating," Hayley confessed, "I thought that if knew the big secret that everything would make sense. But it doesn't."

Harry nodded sympathetically understand exactly how she felt. He wrapped his arms tightly around her small body, trying to express how sorry he was that she had to endure the pain and torment that came with being his girlfriend.

They stood for a while in the bathroom, holding each other, for misery loves company.

Drawing his body away, Harry took hold of the redhead's uninjured hand and led her back towards the bedroom. They carefully tiptoed around the mirror pieces on the floor; luckily the shards were large so it was easy to traverse their way through them.

When they entered the room, Pete nodded at the pair before going out into the living area to give them some privacy.

Hayley let herself be pulled onto their bed and they sat cross-legged opposite each other. She cradled her damaged hand in her lap, wincing as she tried to wriggle her wrist and pained fingers.

"Fucking Parker," Harry seethed as he inspected the broken cast and yellow bruises poking out from beneath it.

"So, is the great betrayal solely the fact that he's Spider-Man?"

"Partly." Harry paused, unsure if telling her the whole truth would be a good thing. So he decided to let her in, just a little bit. "The reason why he is Spider-Man is because he was bitten by a genetically altered spider from my father's labs. I don't know how, and I don't know why, but he can do everything a spider can, including self heal. All I needed was his blood. Just one vial would have been enough."

"Do you mean the venom of the spider did that to him? I remember you telling me about the venom in one of our sessions. Did you think that it might cure you?"

"Yes."

"Harry, you know about Doctor Connors right? The Lizard? He injected himself with a type of venom."

"Of course I know. He turned everyone into giant lizards. After that happened all the animal/human hybrid programs at OsCorp were destroyed," Harry sighed exasperatedly, "But the venom worked for Peter, so his blood holds the key! Imagine having the power to self heal? It was the cure my father spent his whole life working towards."

"And that's why you wanted his blood. What happened when you asked him?"

"Spider-Man said no. Peter. Said. NO!" Harry spat putting his head in his hands, the weight of the world on his shoulders. "He's meant to give people hope…but he took it away from me. I was his friend. I'm dying. And he just said no."

Hayley reached out and stroked his hair, taking the opportunity to think for a moment. She realised that after hearing both sides of the story, the great betrayal meant something completely different for the two men. Peter betrayed Harry by not giving a sample of his blood, whereas Harry wronged Peter by being the catalyst that caused Gwen's death. And the great secret, the elephant in the room, was that Peter was Spider-Man.

Like always, Hayley had been kept in the dark and was the last to know everything; two men, two separate stories, now forever intertwined into her life for good.

"Peter…h-he never told me that part," she murmured lost in her thoughts.

Harry sat up and stared deep into her eyes, "Of course he didn't. He's selfish!"

"You said you killed two people for me…is the second person my mugger? Kuzmin?" One look at the dark smirk on his face and Hayley had her answer. "Why did you use a pumpkin? You know, on his head?"

"_Oh, I don't know, maybe I was trying to be festive,"_ chortled the Goblin, the returned blue in Harry's eyes suddenly flashing green, _"It is Halloween soon."_

"Sarcasm will get you nowhere Goblin."

"_But it's so much fun!" _

"You don't have to be the villain they expect you to be."

"_Oh yes I do!"_

"No you don't! No one is born evil. Evil isn't in your blood – "

"_Yes it is! Retrov – "_

"Retroviral Hypodysplasia is a disease! It's just a disease. It does not make you evil! It does not give you a free pass to kill people!"

"_Are you going to spout some useless drivel about how with great power comes great responsibility? Or some sort of new age bull crap like that?"_

"No. That's just stupid. Only your actions define you."

"_Then I'm a murderer?"_

"Yes," Hayley agreed simply, "Yes you are."

"_And you're a very complicated vixen."_

She blushed and smiled quietly to herself. "I thought Harry Osborn didn't do complicated?"

"I don't…usually," Harry pondered with a smirk. For him, Hayley was the right kind of complicated – a delicate and complex creature whose wondrous layers he adored unwrapping.

"Well, then we're both screwed, because we are as complicated as it gets."

* * *

She was wide-awake, lying in bed and staring at the dark ceiling.

Something had jolted her from a dreamless sleep and Hayley had absolutely no idea what it was.

There it was again.

A very loud noise was buzzing violently all around and she couldn't for the life her understand what it was.

It sounded like someone was screaming.

"Harry?" Hayley called loudly as she sat bolt upright, all drowsiness leaving her in an instant. She heard another yell and rolled out bed, wondering what mess she would find. "Harry?"

"…_You are the shadow...I am the dark…."_

"I'm here Goblin, Ginge is here."

"_I thought I had killed you?"_ came the Goblin's disembodied voice.

Hayley tiptoed round the side of the bed to find him sitting on the floor at the end of it. She shimmed to the ground and sat down beside him, pulling him into her arms.

"_I thought you were dead Ginge," _he wailed loudly.

"I'm not. I'm real. I'm here. I love you."

Harry started to scream and yell frantically, much like he done during the first week of his sleep walking episodes. All Hayley could do was whisper soothing words, stroke his hair and hold him close. He hadn't let her comfort him like this in a long time. It was clear to anyone that they needed each other.

The bedroom door opened slowly and a rather dazed Felicia poked her head through the small gap.

Surprised to see the brunette, Hayley nodded in acknowledgment but brought a finger to her lips, telling her friend to stay silent. She had completely forgotten about Felicia.

Harry continued to howl.

The two women shared a trusted look, both knowing that although their friendship had started off rocky, Harry was what connected them. Their role as his secret keepers was an unspoken bond.

Felicia glanced at her boss who hadn't even noticed her, and her brown eyes glowed with tears. She blinked sorrowfully at Hayley before putting her head back the way she came and slowly closing the door again.

This particular night terror lasted for over an hour, with Hayley's love and comfort never wavering once. However, her mind had started to process and digest all the information she had learnt in the space of a day. She may have rejected Peter, but she had still listened to what he had said. There were still lies that she had yet to uncover, questions that were still unanswered. Harry had lied and used her to some degree.

He was her choice.

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**I'M ALIVE GUYS!**

**Soooo many sorrys, I had a very stressful Xmas/New Year, hence my late updating and review chatting's. Thank you for being patient with me!**

**So, I've recently been pointed out that there are a few medical inaccuracies in my story regarding Hayley and her training. ****I've gone back through to amend my errors as best I can because I do want things to be realistic and correct :) I will tell you guys the changes so that you don't have to reread it all.**

**Hayley holds a degree in Psychiatry and is a trained Psychiatrist. During that time she also trained as a nurse and therefore holds a dual license allowing her to practise as both. She is 21 and may not realistically have achieved this due to her age, however in a comic book and theatrical setting, lots of character's can have special "abilities". In the story Hayley has skipped a couple grades due to her advanced intelligence and also because the school system is slightly different in the UK. That's the best I can do guys!**

**Now that we've all been brought up to speed, YAY I'm back! Happy 2015 my lovely readers! Apologies for leaving you hanging for like nearly a month *ducks quickly from Harry throwing pumpkin grenades*, but I am back and this story is continuing YAY! And lots of conversation in this chap, not much action, but I think our tortured trio needed dose of reality!**

**Much love guys XXX**


	27. Chapter 27

**Featured song**: _Scream My Name_ – Tove Lo / _Do You Really Want To Hurt Me _– Denmark + Winter

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**I do not own Spider-Man, The Amazing Spider-Man 2 movie, video game or anything related to the Marvel franchise! But I do own my OC's and the plot…and I also own a warm scarf that is currently around my neck XD**

**P.S. Any of the music, bands, or brands that I mention in my fic are referenced purely to make the characters and world more tangible – I do not get any money as I am not promoting them…though I know you all know that!**

**WARNING:**** Mature content ahead! NSFW! Rated M for a reason! YAY more fun stuff! (Apologies in advance for the excessive swearing!)**

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Hayley awoke, the much-welcomed Sunday morning lie-in causing her to stretch out her limbs sleepily. Though she was still in a dozy haze, she felt well rested, much to the thanks of the sleeping pills she took last night.

After putting Harry to bed when his lengthy and exhausting night terror ended, she had laid awake for a further two hours, her mind a scrambled mess. Everything she had learnt in the space of twenty-four hours was incredibly hard to digest. Peter being Spider-Man still didn't make sense to her. It was hard to now associate all the times she had seen the arachnid on the news and in the paper, with the goofy and somewhat awkward boy who loved Gwen.

The point of Spider-Man was that he was a faceless vigilante, an everyman, and a heroic citizen. But now she could put a name and a face to the guy in blue and red, his heroic actions were less potent. Peter had gotten close to her, blossomed a friendship that barely existed, just to keep tabs on Harry. How could she continue to believe that his constant superhuman behaviour of saving and protecting New York was truly genuine? Could there be a hidden agenda that she was missing? That maybe there could be a more sinister motive behind the spider's mask?

It was all just painful mind games and pure speculation, but Hayley didn't know where the truth blended into the lies, and the lies hid behind the truth. She wanted to believe in Spider-Man the way she wholeheartedly believed in and supported Harry. However there were so many questions that she needed to ask Peter and unfortunately that was no longer an option. She had chosen Harry, promised never to see Peter again, and had broken off their friendship for good.

Hayley sighed loudly and rubbed the sleep dust from her eyes. All this thinking was giving her a migraine. She turned and wasn't surprised to find Harry missing from their bed, his side cold and devoid of human warmth. Sadly, it was practically routine now.

Reaching out to the bedside table, her fingers clutched at air. A frown settled on her pale face and she sat up, the blanket falling away from her upper body. She rubbed her bare arms as her eyes suspiciously fell upon the space where a bottle of tablets should have been.

"That's odd," Hayley muttered under her breath, "I was sure I put it there last night." Her feet kicked away the remaining blanket and she shimmied out of bed, before crouching down to inspect the floor. "Curiouser and curiouser. No bottle, just dust bunnies, and…" her voice tailed off as she spotted a very odd and out of place object.

Beneath the bed was a very long and deep, silver metallic box. It had strong looking clamps that were keeping it tightly shut, as well as a sturdy three-digit combination lock. There was not a scratch or dent on it, its metallic armour guarding it from any unwanted intruders, like Hayley. The box appeared as if it could survive a nuclear bomb! There were also two labels upon the box; one was the familiar OsCorp logo, and the other was an orange caution sticker informing her that the contents inside were explosive.

Hayley felt sick knowing that there was a very strong possibility that bombs were under the bed in which they both slept.

It was clearly a government official item and it appeared relatively new considering not one speck of dust coated it. Instead, the fluff and dirt created a loose forensic time scale of how long it had been inside Osborn Manor. The case like box had her extremely worried for her own safety and concerned as to why Harry would even have hold of it in the first place. There appeared no safe way of checking the contents herself, not that she particularly wanted to. Without the combination code or bomb squad clothing, Hayley was at a loss of what do about this discovery. So instead of immediately confronting Harry, she decided to continue to search for the elusive medication bottle.

Unlike Alice falling into Wonderland, Hayley wanted to stay suspended for a little while longer, and not discover how deep the rabbit hole goes.

She played detective for a good twenty minutes, though her thoughts still lingered on the OsCorp Pandora's box. The bathroom was now a mess with all the cupboards and cabinets wide open and disordered, having been rifled through hysterically. Harry's night robe lay on the unmade bed, the pockets turned out. Hayley had even searched the adjoining bedroom.

Still nothing.

Objects didn't just disappear.

With her search drawing up blank, she was about to give up when her eyes landed on the only place she hadn't searched; Harry's bedside table. She hadn't thoroughly checked near the bed due to what lay beneath it.

As she hesitantly walked towards the bedside table, she struggled internally, knowing that it was an invasion of privacy. However, with her migraine practically making her head explode, Hayley had no choice. She bit her lip nervously, her heart pounding behind her ribs. It felt wrong to do this, and her eyes darted towards the door leading to the living area.

"Please don't come in, please don't come in, please don't come in," she whispered repeatedly, practically hyperventilating as her hand curled around the drawer knob. "Please don't come in, please don't come in, please don't – "

Her eyes speedily flicked away from the door and down to the drawer as she tugged it open. Nestled in with various assorted boxes, the lost pill bottle twinkled up at her.

_Why are my drugs in Harry's drawer? _Hayley pondered.

Initially she felt relieved that she hadn't just misplaced the glass bottle, but was now somewhat perturbed at its current and mysterious location. Hayley snatched it up and raced with it back into the bathroom. It felt like she had just stolen from Harry even though it was her possession. After popping a little yellow migraine pill her mind started to clear, and she calmly and methodically returned the bathroom to its natural order. Hayley made sure to hide the bottle under the sink behind the toilet roll, hopefully where Harry wouldn't find it.

She was just about to locate the man in question and rustle up a late cornflakes breakfast, when she remembered that his drawer remained open, begging to be discovered. Walking briskly, Hayley fixed the crumpled bed sheets as she went, finishing on Harry's side. Her green eyes tried not to specifically identify what he kept in his drawer, she really did, but there was no unseeing the blatant and obvious truth.

His drawer was filled with unopened and unused boxes of prescription medication.

Shakily, Hayley lifted up a box and stared at the prescribed date; the box had been administered in the first month he was released from Ravencroft. Hayley threw the insulting object back into the drawer of deceit from whence it came. As the box smacked against its fellows, she too felt like being slapped in the face.

She had failed.

Failed at treating Harry, failed at monitoring his daily medication, failed at being a trained professional…just…failed.

Apart from the all-consuming failure, Hayley also felt angry. She was positively fuming that Harry seemed to think that this was all a game, that he did not trust in her ability to treat and medicate him. This explained the merging of himself and the Goblin, their definitive lines blurring. His worsening skin lesions, explosive behaviour, inability to control his temper, returning night terrors; this was all due to his deception of taking his medication. He hadn't taken _any_ medication the whole time.

This really was the last straw.

Seething from head to toe, Hayley shoved the drawer closed with a bang and stormed away from it. An agitated scowl hardened her more naturally soft features and her emerald eyes became jaded with pure anger overcoming her.

When she crossed the short distance towards the door, she flung it open violently, yelling as she went, "Harry! HAR – "

Stopping mid sentence, Hayley was greeted by a shirtless Harry, as well as two men she did not recognise; Felicia appeared to have left, as she was not present.

Harry was sitting on his favoured couch, his dappled and sickly green skin on full display. All the lesions she had attended to last night before his night terror were now exposed, with fresh smaller ones having appeared over night it seemed. He was bent over, his back glistening slightly with beads of sweat and his breathing ragged; he appeared to be in pain. From her position, Hayley was once again unable to see the larger wound in his neck. Every so often his hand kept dabbing at the infected area.

Various medical supplies covered the coffee table, with two large, sliver, suitcase like boxes open wide containing further medicinal equipment. The cases were extremely similar to the one beneath Harry's bed. An excessive amount of sterile bandages were stacked like Jenga blocks next to small vials of blood, which was no doubt Harry's. Much of the apparatus was top of the line, expensive models, and the newest gadgets in the field.

They had clearly been brought by the dark skinned man wearing pinstripe trousers, a smart shirt and tie, with a stethoscope slung round his neck. He wore angular glasses that looked to be designer. His nimble hands were holding bandages, so Hayley assumed that the man was a doctor, and a highly skilled one judging by the surrounding equipment. There was a vague hint of recognition about the new man but she couldn't put her finger on it.

The last man had his well-built back to her. He was standing by the tall windows with the organza curtains causing a strange, blue, glow around him. Judging by the hand stroking his beard, he appeared to be deep in thought.

"What's going on?" Hayley asked cautiously, looking between the three men apprehensively. Her anger subsided for now, what with the oddity of the situation causing her to feel wary.

Harry smirked dangerously, licking his lips as he spoke clearly, "Say hello to my new doctor."

"Your w-what?"

"Doctor, Hayley. My new doctor," he repeated, brushing away his boyish bangs as he spoke. Harry watched closely at the evident confusion on her face, wanting nothing more than to kiss the trembling lips that alerted him to her bubbling distress. "This is Doctor Booker, he was one of my father's physicians. He is also the lead consultant on all the research into Retroviral Hypodysplasia at OsCorp."

"Ah, Miss Carmichael, I have read your notes back at the lab, very thorough work," spoke the older man, his voice as gruff and manly as the black beard on his chin.

Hayley smiled shyly and nodded in greeting. Though she had never met the man, she knew who Doctor Booker was. He was rarely seen in the practical side of the laboratories but he always attended meetings and delegated all the radical research that she was now a part of. Strictly speaking, he was the head of her department of research, lead professional, her superior and boss. Everyone always spoke well of the stern looking man, and his name appeared on all the inter-department emails and research papers on Retroviral Hypodysplasia.

The doctor wore an expensive suit, as many men of power often did. Other than his bushy facial hair, he was a balding man, in his early fifties. He had a worn face but everything else about him screamed of expertise, talent, and skill in his field. The medical supplies he was using to patch up Harry were all laid out neatly, in some sort of order. His dexterous hands were sure of every movement they made on Harry's ill body. The man reminded her slightly of Doctor Scott, though their auras were completely different; the Ravencroft doctor was pompous and a sadistic man, whereas Booker held himself with respect and had a small shred of kindness in his eyes.

Sensing that the redhead still hadn't fully comprehended the situation, Harry reiterated his point, interested to see how she took the final blow. "Yes," he said, his piercing eyes capturing hers, "Doctor Booker will be taking over my medical care from now on."

She stayed silent for a moment, unable to breakaway from his possessive gaze. Only when she focused on the fresh bandages in the doctor's hands, did she really understand that Harry was effectively firing her.

"Wait, what?"

"The plan was always to have Doctor Booker relieve you from your duties when you had collected enough date," Harry revealed with a wicked grin. He rolled his head and cracked his knuckles, truly at ease with the power he held of having her life in his hands.

"So…wh-what is my job now?"

"_You_ will continue working in the laboratories, Miss Carmichael," Doctor Booker reassured curtly, rubbing his dark beard as he spoke, "your work ethics have not gone unnoticed. You have a great working relationship with Mr. Osborn, so you will continue to utilise that. You will no longer be conducting checkups daily, but rather every two days. You will also personally assist me with various data collection projects, such as monitoring Mr. Osborn's lesion growth." The doctor waited for a response from the deflated girl but received none, so he continued, "You will no longer be lead physician but an assistant. _I _will now be in charge of Mr. Osborn's primary and immediate medical care."

"Right," Hayley said flatly, staring at the marbled ground, noticing all the lovely swirls in the stone.

"It's not like science is your strongest area anyway, Hayley. We'll still have our twice monthly therapy sessions to look forward to," Harry grinned.

"Not that you take them seriously," muttered the redhead under her breath.

"_I_ will be examining Mr. Osborn closely to not only administer tailor-made, revolutionary testing, but _also_ to take care of prescribing his medication."

"Why? It's not like he takes his pills anyway," she snapped hastily, the words tumbling from her lips before she even had time to think of the aftermath.

The room became deathly silent and her words hung in the air like bullets finding their mark, with Hayley the unfortunate target. Her teeth gnawed at her swollen lip, deciding it better to stay quiet since her mouth was seemingly out of her control. Risking a glance over to Harry, she visibly cringed under his piercing glare, his cool eyes starting to rapidly change colour.

The Goblin couldn't come out, not in front of two men who probably knew nothing of his personality shifts. Hayley prayed that her smart mouth hadn't unleashed the monster.

"Why don't we let the doctor continue his examinations, Miss Carmichael," came a strange Russian voice.

The built man, who had remained silent up until now, motioned for her to come stand with him by the tall windows.

He was strange looking, wearing a tight, long-sleeved, black top that hugged the definition of his musculature. Army cargo trousers and a real fur gilet suggested that he might be in the armed forces or some sort of huntsman. He seemed older than his appearance suggested; maybe it was the large scar that ran over his eye, or maybe it was the way he stood with total and complete peaceful assurance. The foreign man had a harsh face and a cold stilted voice, but that didn't stop Hayley from instantly respecting the man. He seemed like he had seen many things in his time, almost like an old book; tattered and rough on the outside, but behind the ragged cover lay a wealth of knowledge.

"I believe we have not been formally introduced; I am Sergei Kravinoff, but you may call me Kraven." He held out his hand for her to shake and when her cold and clammy hand pressed against his, Kraven internally marvelled at how dainty the redhead was. The veins on her arm pulsed, he observed. No doubt her heart was fluttering like a caged bird, " You are tense. One would do well not to provoke the green-eyed monster."

Hayley's head snapped up to stare at the man in shock. How did he know about the Goblin? Did he know? Although she couldn't be certain that's what he had implied, she could tell from Kraven's unalarmed state that he too knew about Harry's alter ego. It was strange that the man was completely calm and composed about being trusted with such a secret.

"He's replaced me I see," Hayley commented dryly. Truthfully, she wanted to probe the man more to see how much he knew, but it was probably not wise to discuss such secretive matters in front of Doctor Booker…unless he knew too.

"A lion has duty to rule his pride, make difficult decisions that effect those he loves, regardless of the costs," Kraven responded, his strange expressions puzzling her momentarily.

"The word "pride" implies that his choices effect people other than me."

The hunter continued to stare out at the window. "They do."

"Yes, but by your logic I'd be considered a lioness…unless he has other lion girlfriends in his "pride" to replace me with…"

"You misunderstand Miss Carmichael. You are the lamb," he clarified, momentary amusement at the emergence of her own green-eyed monster causing him to titter.

Jealousy was not a concept associated with hunting animals, and Kraven found the emotional side of human beings a trivial past time. However, he could not deny that the little redhead was truly captivating in the way her emotions changed effortlessly like the change of ocean tides. She had gone from anger, to confusion, hurt, annoyance, shock, cynicism, and now jealousy. Kraven had once described her to Harry as a delicate flower, a statement that he stood by. Though he was alarmed at the fresh bruising on her neck, as well as the way a broken cast clung to her clawed fingers.

Clearly the lion and toyed with the lamb.

Hayley glanced up at the hunter skeptically, "A sacrificial lamb?"

"No," Kraven chortled kindly, "a pure lamb. One that needs protection."

"From what?"

"The truth," he murmured softly, lowering his voice so as not to alert Harry who was still being treated by Doctor Booker. "There are forces other than what you see, little lamb. The road will not be easy, but in the end, you must be the one to save him from himself if need be," the hunter's words coming forth like a prophecy being foretold.

"I thought you said_ I_ needed to be protected?" she questioned, crinkling her nose in confusion. All the ambiguous animal comparisons were starting to bring back her migraine.

"This is true. However, a lion with nothing to live for is reckless. You are the key to his remaining humanity," Kraven mused, looking down at the redhead for the first time during their conversation.

"You are one cryptic guy, you know," Hayley informed him with a smile.

Kraven started a little at how her eyes twinkled at him kindheartedly; she was too trusting, much like a lamb innocently grazing with a wolf in sheep's clothing. Except the hunter had no qualms about her eventual discovery of who he really was, as well as his role in Mr. Osborn's plans. There would indeed be danger ahead for the fragile girl, but having two apex predator criminals on her side would improve her chances of surviving this battle.

"Another truth," he commented, a rare ghost of a smile upturning the corners of his lips – the girl's purity was intoxicating and infectious.

The noise of a strange and informative voice caused the pair to turn away from the window and face the open plan room. Harry had the television remote in his hand, finger pressed firmly on the volume button.

The reporter, Whitney Chang, was discussing the latest news surrounding the murder of Andrei Kuzmin. Apparently there were no current leads, but viewers were told to stay vigilant around the area. Police detectives had decided to address the beheading rumour. Confirming photographs were then shown of the carved pumpkin that had been used, dried blood sprinkled over the orange-yellow fruit. Viewers were advised to be alert in the upcoming weeks when dressing up and purchasing jack-o-lanterns for All Hallows Eve.

"_Pumpkins aren't just for Halloween these days it seems," _the Goblin joked, flashing the redhead a dark grin akin to the one he had carved on the pumpkin. He noticed her shudder at his words, which only furthered his excitement. "_We_ _might have to buy some Hayley, otherwise Halloween just won't be the same,"_ he said before focusing his attention back to Doctor Booker attending his wounds.

Tutting at him in displeasure, Hayley went back to looking out the window, preferring the view outside than what was transpiring in Osborn Manor.

"Mr. Osborn has flare for theatrics, wouldn't you agree little lamb?"

Hayley slowly peeked up at the hunter, eyes widening in realisation that not only was this man aware of the Goblin, but he too knew the truth behind Kuzmin's murder. He could have played a part in it, even helped Harry carry out the crime. Kraven was heavily involved in whatever Harry had planned, that she now knew for sure.

She took one last glance back at the television screen before turning to face the window again, feeling slightly calmer viewing the everyday hustle and bustle in comparison to the ghastly news headlines. There always seemed to be some crime or villainous rampage happening in New York. And there was always Spider-Man, ready to rescue and protect the city.

It made her think about the first time she really became aware and frightened of what was being reported on the news; Electro's darkening of the city, the Goblin's creation and capture, Spider-Man's battle atop the clock tower…Gwen's death. That one event had changed her life forever. She remembered watching the news that night when the power had returned. It was strange to think that the televised grainy video of the hero and villain battling it out actually showed her the very people who were not only responsible for Gwen's death, but also who would replace her friend's presence in her life.

Ever since that night, Hayley only watched the news channels. Her relatively quiet life had been disturbed, and now nothing else mattered than the plague of crime that poisoned New York.

"Have we met before?" she piped up suddenly.

Kraven quirked his bushy, salt and pepper eyebrows, wondering how much to reveal. "Briefly, at the charity ball."

Hayley cast her mind back and realised that Kraven was one of the men who passed her when she interrupted Harry's meeting in the hotel room. It had been so dark in the room that she really hadn't been able to distinguish any recognisable features. However, his built silhouette flashed like a light bulb in her memory.

"I think I've seen you before, other than that night I mean," she continued slowly, "on the news…you were with Sytsevich fighting Spider-Man?"

Choosing not to answer the inquisitive girl this time, Kraven continued on with his previous point that was prompted by the news story. "You have taken your attacker's murder well. Not everyone is forgiving of a clear display of dominant and predatory behaviour."

"Do not take my calmness as forgiveness, Kraven," Hayley snapped uncharacteristically, making the hunter turn in surprise at her sudden, feisty demeanor, "I do not approve of it at all! I do not even think I'm ok with it." She closed her eyes and let out a long sigh, "But, that exhilarating feeling of when you extinguish the fire in their eyes, when you see the spark of life dying, well…I would imagine it's invigorating."

Kraven stared at the proposed lamb, wondering how he could have overlooked such a high-spirited and complex creature. "You speak with assertion of an apex predator," he commented.

"Maybe. Either way, he's a murderer and an idiot."

"You view exacting justice wrongful?"

"No, but revenge is."

"Hayley!"

The redhead and the hunter turned sharply towards the harsh voice.

Harry was pulling a navy t-shirt back over his body, which was dotted with the fresh bandages that Doctor Booker had applied. Her eyes glazed over slightly upon seeing the flesh above his jean waistband, the little snail trail of hair making her mouth go dry in want. It was odd how quickly her emotions changed around him. Even being in his presence made her a bumbling mess, and she was meant to be angry with him!

"Hayley," he repeated looking her up and down, the same look of desire in his eyes. However, the irritation was clear in his voice, "Be a doll and get dressed."

Glancing down at her attire, Hayley blushed upon realising that in her initial rage she had forgotten that she was still in her nightwear. Leggings, a knee-length, baggy tee, and messy hair were not the things to be wearing in front of a criminal hunter, her work superior, and the owner of OsCorp.

"Oh…erm…I…" she spluttered, wringing her hands together in embarrassment.

"Well, why don't you go get dressed," Harry drawled, placing his hands behind his head as he relaxed further into the sofa.

He rather enjoyed seeing her ruffled and tumbled but not in front of others - she was only for him to see. The reason he had tolerated her less than polished apparel was because he wasn't in a position to enforce his demands. Plus, he was very interested in seeing her reactions to Kraven, and did not wish to disturb them. If the hunter could strike up a similar rapport and friendship like the one she had with Manners, then Hayley would be further ensnared into his sinister plans.

Not needing any more encouragement, Hayley took off like a shot and made a beeline for the room they shared. Her hands fiddled with the hem of her long t-shirt, all too aware that its stonewashed style only made her appear that much scruffier. The worst part was that she could feel three pairs of judgmental eyes boring into her back.

"I'll be seeing you at work then, Miss Carmichael," Doctor Booker called out causing the redhead to turn, "we shall schedule a meeting soon."

"Yes, I –." In her haste, Hayley stumbled and stubbed her foot on the wall of mahogany bookshelves, "OW! FU-I'm fine!" She bit the inside of her mouth to prevent her from swearing, "Work…meeting, yes! Erm, goodbye!"

Internally she cringed at her stupidity but was too desperate to leave to really rectify the situation.

As she closed the door behind her, Hayley let out a long sigh and whispered every profanity under the sun whilst she rubbed her bruised foot. The solid door acted as her stability, however its closure did not conceal her completely from what she had left behind. She could her snippets of the men's conversations; Harry was making excuses for her disheveled appearance.

"…pops sleeping pills like they were candy, hence her preference for nightwear this late in the morning… "

Her heart sank and she stared at her bare feet, the chipped and varnished nails suddenly making her think about the cracks in her professional and personal relationship with Harry. It was like whenever she had collected all the breadcrumbs and put the jigsaw pieces together, the puzzle only got that much bigger.

The men's laughter only furthered her feelings of humiliation and shame.

"…at least, Mr. Osborn, you will not suffer from any side effects yourself. Medicating you with prescription drugs is not the answer…" came Doctor Booker's eloquent voice.

"Indeed. I haven't taken any since my release from the institute…"

Hayley clenched her jaw to stop the tears forming in her eyes because she was so sick of constantly crying over things that weren't in her control. So her sadness started to turn back into anger and she gave the closed door the finger. Then when that wasn't enough to express her ire, she started to mutter curses aloud. She closed her eyes and began to do a strange dance, hoping around like a rabbit gone berserk. All the while gesticulating her anger as she went.

"Fuck you, fuck you, you fucking pompous, rich bastard! Fuck you, fuck you, you fucking pompous, rich bastard! Fuck you, fuck – "

So absorbed in her crazy version of a Wiccan hex dance, she failed to hear the door open.

"I see you still aren't dressed properly," spoke Harry, smiling widely when she stopped dancing, her eyes flying open to meet his. "Alas, I must confess, you are rather amusing like this," he chuckled, "though I fail to see how I am a bastard."

"What the fuck are you playing at Harry?" Hayley cried indignantly, "You fired me! You – "

"No. I just shuffled around my staff a little."

"Is that what I am to you? Your "staff"? You could have told me! But you let me find out like this! I am so embarrassed!"

"Don't be," Harry said casually as he sauntered towards her.

"I am so pissed off with you, Harry Osborn!"

"Good, I like it when you're angry."

Screwing up her eyes in frustration, Hayley started to raise her voice, "Angry? Angry! I am fucking beyond – "

Harry reached for her face, pulling her chin towards him as his arm wrapped itself around her body. "Do you ever shut up?"he asked before kissing her forcefully._ "I want to hear you scream my name, Ginge."_

"Now is not the time – "

"_Now is the perfect time. Did I not hear you saying you wished to fuck me?"_

"You know that's not what I meant!"

"_True…but that's what I would like you to mean." _He waited for an immediate response, a snappy come back, but instead of receiving one, the Goblin could see her mulling over his request. "_Would you not like that? Hmmm? Would you not like me to fuck you?"_

Hayley scoffed, "You really are a pompous bastard if you think continuously saying the word "fuck" is going to make your offer that more appealing to me."

"_I've got your pretty little mind thinking about it though, haven't I?"_ he purred, words like honey to her ears. Sliding his grip from her chin and round to the back of her head, he entwined his fingers into her messy auburn hair, tugging her ever that much closer. _"Why don't you just give in? You, Harry, and I, all know that you want this,"_ the Goblin spoke lowly, pressing his forehead against hers, _"I crave you Ginge. Let me have you. Don't make me beg for this…"_

_Now that is an interesting concept_, Hayley thought.

Shifting in his tight embrace, she batted her eyelashes at him, which tickled his skin because of how close they were. "What if I asked you to – "

"_To what? Tell me – "_

" – to beg."

A smirk spread across his lips. _"You are so naughty, Ginge_," murmured the Goblin slowly, "_it's almost criminal."_

He enjoyed her reaction to his heated joke, the way a small and natural smile tugged at the corners of her lips against her better judgment. How she almost rolled her eyes, half from his ridiculous insinuation, the other half due to the lust she was fighting. Her breathing had become slow and heavy, her cheeks red from the intensive heat between them both. No doubt that beneath her oversized t-shirt, her chest would also be covered in little splatters of adorable heat rash.

Slowly and deliberately, so that she could feel every single movement, he slid his hand from her waist to her hip. Hayley stiffened in anticipation as his hand continued to lower to her bum, then to her thigh, bringing her knee upwards so that her leg was hooked around his waist. Their foreheads were still pressed tightly against one another, and each noticed how their breathing accelerated as they made eye contact.

There was a pause…then all hell broke loose.

Their lips crashed against each other's, the pace faster than they had ever gone before. Teeth abraded kissable lower lips, whilst tongues dipped, swerved, and massaged the other, demanding to be the dominant partner. Tension rose through Hayley's body, every single sense was tuned into the affection she was receiving. She had a wild hunger driving her; one that she couldn't quite believe even existed within her, one that had come alive as soon as the Goblin said, "fuck."

Harry gripped at her leg punishingly, pulling on it until she got the message and did a small jump, wrapping her other leg around him too. She squeaked when his hands splayed across her bum, holding her steady whilst kneading the beauteous mounds of flesh. Hayley was so light that he had barely felt her tentative touch the first time they made love. But now she was expressing her rage most passionately. Her fingers raked through his floppy hair, nails gripping small tendrils as her tugs and mewling heightened his ferocity.

The redhead was giving as good as she got, and the Goblin relished in her confident fury.

"_You…still…angry…with…me…?" _he demanded hotly, completely overcome with the desire that was pulsing in his groin.

"Of…course…of course I fu….I am…" she replied. Her lips trailed away from his and down the good side of his neck, nibbling as she went.

The Goblin tried to stifle a groan that rumbled in his throat, _"…fuck, Hayley… Be angry at Harry…"_

"I'd rather not be angry at either of you!" she said, stopping her playful mouth.

"_I'd rather you be angry with me everyday of the week if it gets you this excitable."_

Hayley moved her position to face him, her hands clasping his face as she said exasperatedly, "You are impossible Goblin!"

"_And_ _you are fuckable!" _he grinned, trying in vain to capture her mouth again.

"Stop saying that word!"

"_Why?"_

"It does things to me, that's why," she admitted with a huff. Her hands continued to hold his face, though her nails dug in slightly in her annoyance, "I don't know why, but it does."

"_Oh, well, I think I'll have to use it again."_

"Don't you dare – "

Tightening his hold, the Goblin started moving them both away from the door and deeper into the bedroom; _"I am going to fuck you right now. Fuck you hard and fast. Fuck you until you scream my name." _

Her response was breathtaking to him, how her head rolled backwards as she arched her back. Even the way she danced about in his arms, completely at ease with her budding sexual experiences, was enough to harden him further. He wanted to keep her body burning against his, to continue widening her horizons to every type of pleasure.

A robust chest of drawers was his destination. Initially he wanted to place her there to alleviate his arms and hands so as to feel her body more. But now he was toying with the idea of claiming her on the furniture.

As soon as he set her, Hayley was all over him, her hands going to his chest to feel his lean body, whilst his own flew to clutch at her face. They continued to descend upon each other, every kiss as precious and intoxicating as the last. At times their demands of each other were unforgiving.

In her heated hast to remove his navy shirt, Hayley's hands were slightly more harsh than they should have been considering the bandages on his body. There was such urgency behind her actions that gentle touches were long forgotten. But Harry didn't mind, he needed this, to taste her this way. This wasn't a question of love. This was about invigorating lust.

When he removed her own t-shirt, he was overjoyed to see her braless. Immediately his head dipped down to circle his tongue over her small, bare breasts. The whimpering sounds his actions elicited from her mouth were music to his ears.

"…hey…hey, you fucking pompous, rich bastard…" Hayley felt his lips smile against the skin of her breast as his teeth grazed her nipple,"…fuck you."

The palms of his hands ran over the glass like scars on her back, fingers massaging her fiery secret in anticipation,_ "Good, I hoped you'd might!"_

Harry lifted his head, which caused her to whine in protest, but he placed a finger on her pouting mouth. He quirked an expectant eyebrow until she got the hint to lick it. When she did, he nearly lost his resolve altogether. Instead he withdrew the wet digit and traced it over her naked chest and down towards the elastic waistband of her leggings.

"_Oh, the things I'm going to do to you," _he muttered to himself as he reached beneath the fabric of her lingerie to cup her nakedness.

A little "o" formed on her lips as his fingers tickled her already damp bud. It was pure perfection how she became undone before him, not holding back in her insistent moans and the energetic rolls of her hips to meet his own curling motions inside her. She was so forthcoming in her sexual responses that he managed to sheath two digits inside, adding further pressure for when she was ready to take him.

"Please…please…"

"_Please what?"_

Throwing her head back in frustration, Hayley groaned at his silly little games, "You're going to make _me_ beg now, aren't you?"

"_Not if you ask nicely and use your delightful little voice to scream for me later, then I will give you what you want," _he remarked, quickening the speed of his fingers which only made her hiss in response at the increased force.

"I think…fuck…I think all three of us know what I want."

"_Say it," _demand the Goblin, running his unoccupied hand along the length of her exposed, bruised throat as if to magic the answer he desired.

"Please, oh great Green Goblin, would you be so kind as to have sex with me," she said sarcastically.

"_I would be kind enough if you said it properly."_

Lolling her head forward, she placing her hands on his face and stared deeply into his eyes. She wanted to feed off his intensity, "Please fuck me, Goblin."

Instantly he released his fingers, and his hands start to tug at the clothing on her lower half, desperate to be connected to her again. And when the belt around his waist started to slacken, Harry smirked at the boldness of the fiery redhead. Even though the prospect of their imminent coupling was making her hands shake, he continued to be amazed how receptive she was to the passion and spontaneity of her second time.

He released himself from the confines of his jeans and was encouraged by the fire in her eyes. The feeling of penetrating hunger was mutual.

Hayley gasped as her tightness ensnared his length millimetre by millimetre, their actions momentarily slow. When his hilt was reached, they both shared a look that clearly said, "Go for it."

Rocking slower than he would have liked, Harry thrust himself as firm as he could to show her exactly how wondrous the feeling of pure want was. She rolled her hips back in response, meeting his every move with a breathy squeak. Their arms were wrapped around one another tightly, almost as if this moment might be their last. Which it wasn't, the Goblin would make sure of that. The redhead was his, and he tried to convey his undying love and possessive need in every single touch, roll, and thrust.

The position was close and intimate; the pace quickened, the feeling deep, their skin constantly touching. The wooden furniture rattled with the deliberate movements, like their own percussion accompanying their sexual rhythm. Hayley's bum started to ache from the harshness of the mahogany pressing into her tailbone but she didn't care; she would endure anything to feel this connected with Harry. Where her first time was special and beautiful in his understanding and kindness, her second was practically the opposite. This was raw, with every single push inside her exhilarating, freeing even, in its expressive intensity. She never wanted to feel empty again, emotionally or sexually.

The Goblin was not holding back and even though it initially hurt, she needed to feel this. To feel him and his sexual identity. Hayley knew the love from Harry when they made love, for she had felt it blossom over her. But now she needed to understand how his powerful Id worked, what he felt like in one of the most vulnerable positions a person could be in. To bare everything that he was to her as the Green Goblin, for her to be his secret keeper, it made her feel like the most beautiful girl in the world…even if his sexual ministrations would undoubtedly leave bruises.

The cabinet banged erratically against the wall, signaling the imminent crescendo. Hayley wrapped her legs as tight as she could around her lover's waist, needing to add further pressure to what was stirring deep inside her. She clutched him in her arms as Harry braced his hands against the wall so that he could maximize the strength and power necessary to deepen his final thrusts.

"I-I-I feel…everything…"

"_You are my everything…"_

"As are you…I love you…"

"_Then scream it…I'm going to…I can't take much more…" _he breathed, trying to hold himself off from the much needed release; the desire to hear her scream was what drove him.

Hayley's whole body was full of tension, aching for liberation, which is why she gave into what he wanted, why she spoke the words that she knew would feed his ego, because in that moment, every single word she screamed was true.

"I AM YOURS GOBLIN!"

* * *

After an hours power nap, Harry felt the redhead stir beside him, and stared down at her with a satisfied smile. "See, don't our arguments always turn into something much more fun?" he asked, trying to draw her closer to his side of the bed.

Hayley huffed and rolled beneath the sheets before jumping out of bed. "I'm still not happy with you," she said, grabbing her discarded Metallica tee, hastily pulling it over her naked body. Luckily it was long enough to reach her knees.

"Hayley! God, just let this go!" Harry sighed loudly staring at the ceiling agitatedly. "None of the models ever complained this much," he muttered to himself.

Tears pricked in her eyes; he always had to spoil everything.

"Fine, be that way!" she screamed as she stormed into the bathroom, rummaging around under the sink frantically.

"What _are _you doing?" called out Harry, running a hand over his face in frustration; why did she always have to spoil everything? "Come back to bed Hayley! Your little brat act is getting old now!"

"I could say the same about you being a criminal, but I don't! Just because you're a murderer, it doesn't mean you can steal my fucking pills Harry Osborn!"

Instantly his face went serious, eyes glowing green. He glanced at his bedside table before ripping open the drawer and growling in anger upon finding the pill bottle missing.

"Hayley!" he roared, grabbing his night robe from the floor and tying it round his waist whilst leaping from the bed.

He arrived just in time to see Hayley putting down the bottle of tablets and placing one into her mouth. Harry grabbed her arm, spun her around, clutched her face and squeezed her cheeks painfully.

"Spit it out!"

Hayley glared angrily at him, but complied, using her tongue to push the little pill from her mouth. "Harry, what the HELL?" she shrieked, ripping herself out of his hands. "It's birth control! Jeez!"

Narrowing his eyes suspiciously, Harry glanced down at the medication, "Why is it in the bottle for sleeping pills then?"

"I keep lots of pills in various places! It was something I adopted just in case I got caught stealing from Ravencroft. The bottle is labelled Amitriptyline but it also holds my migraine tablets and birth control."

Harry picked up the bottle and poured out its contents. Three different coloured and size tablets were scattered across the sink, confirming her story. He watched closely as her fingers reached out, taking another tablet and putting it in her mouth. Her dry swallow was quick, a motion she'd obviously perfect many times before.

"That was birth control. Or do you want an Osborn Jr. running around?" she goaded, quirking her eyebrow mockingly. "This next pill is for the migraine you are giving me." Her hand went to take another but harsh fingers prevented her wrist from moving, "Let go, Harry!"

"You have a dependency on drugs! You abuse them!" he growled, "I've seen your stash, remember?"

"I abuse drugs? What about you? You abused my trust!" Hayley shrieked, trying to take back her hand from his biting grip, "You're no longer taking yours when _you_ clearly need them!"

"They were limiting me! You were trying to control me, supress who I really am - "

"I was trying to rehabilitate you! Help you!"

"_If you embrace your pain, your darker side, it will only make you stronger."_

"I have! I showed you my scars! Was that not enough?"

"You are always enough!" he beseeched her, stroking her wrist with his controlling fingers, "But_ you_ do not need medication. It will set you free, Hayley."

Tears started to stream down her cheeks, as she tried and failed to fight her case, "I do, I need them!"

"You are such a hypocrite! How could I ever trust you to medicate me, when you abused your position and stole medication you do not even need!"

"I have insomnia and anxiety, Harry, and your walking, your night terrors, they are not helping!"

"What prevents you from sleeping, huh? What goes on in your mind?" Harry released her arm and tried to bring her closer by holding her waist. _"Do you see them dying? Do you feel the flames on your bare flesh, smell the skin burning and melting on your body – "_

The redhead raised her hand and slapped him across the face, "How DARE you Harry Osborn! Don't you _dare _speak of things you do not understand!"

He reeled back and started to storm out of the bathroom, "I have things to discuss with Kraven. Hopefully your attitude will be improved when I return."

* * *

Hayley spent the rest of the afternoon shut away in the adjoining room, reading one of her favourite books by Allen Ginsberg. She also tidied her collection of medication, bringing the majority of it into her room, hiding a few bottles here and there. One still remained on the dresser.

Even though Harry had returned only a few hours ago, he had not sought her out. Which suited her just fine. The world of literature and music became her escape, and she got lost listening to the Imagine Dragons new album "Smoke + Mirrors". Only when the album ended did she realise that she was still in her pyjamas.

Following a long and soothing, hot shower, Hayley went into the adjoining bedroom to get dressed and sort out her lengthy, auburn hair. It was always such a chore to dry her hair, but one that she enjoyed nonetheless. She marvelled at all the different shades of orange and burnt ochre that were scattered throughout her sleek strands. The way the light caught her ginger tresses, making them shimmer and sparkle, was an aspect of her hair that she adored. Hayley didn't particularly like the way she looked though; skinny, bony, pale, and very plain, would be the words she would use to describe her appearance. But it was her hair that she truly loved. Its cascading beauty acted as a shield, her one attractive feature that she hoped masked, in her eyes, her simple God-given appearance.

She pulled out fresh underwear from her wooden chest of drawers, as well as a pair of black, leather-look skinnies and a green blouse from the sparse wardrobe. The clothes were new and made her appear more sophisticated. There was no particular reason why she wanted to dress up. It simply made her feel better to do so, and after that argument, she really wanted to feel a bit happier. A bit less like her usual self.

After quickly dressing, Hayley set to drying her hair with her Grandma's ancient hairdryer. She closed her green eyes and concentrated on the simple task, feeling at peace beneath the toasty air blowing from the dryer. This noisy serenity only lasted fifteen minutes but to Hayley it seemed like hours had gone by.

As she quietened the hairdryer, its task complete, she opened her eyes and stared at the pale girl with a lion's mane reflected in her vanity mirror. Gathering up her still warm hair, she began to deftly braid it while she hummed a non-existent tune. Hayley wove her hair effortlessly, not needing to observe her actions in the mirror before her – the entwining movements were as easy and as natural as breathing.

Her mind started to revisit the conversations she had had with Harry and Peter about betrayal. She replayed their words over and over, trying to gain further understanding, but the effort was always pointless. Even though she had chosen Harry, it did not mean that she would be a puppet, standing by and watching the possibility of impending and further criminal acts happening.

In her heart, Hayley _still _wanted to save them both, to be the underdog hero. However, she knew the chances of that happening were the same as pigs flying. She giggled quietly to herself at the image of pigs squealing loudly whilst their angel wings made them soar through the sky. The fantasy of flying had always appealed to Hayley. But then her mind flashed the memory of gliding around New York on the wings of an arachnid's web. Suddenly flying seemed like the worst thing to fantasise about.

With her hair complete in its stylised fashion, she glanced up to the mirror to see Harry standing ominously behind her. She jumped and then froze, her heart racing. The light from her vanity illuminated his sallow appearance, casting shadows in the contours of his face and chiselled jawline. Harry's eyes seemed hollow with dark circles surrounding his icy blues, appearing like a silent deathly spectre to haunt her. His skin was more noticeably green under the bright light, a sickly pallor that was frighteningly unusual when paired with his neatened hair, leather jacket and gifted, pinstripe scarf. Even though she loved Harry, it was still always strange to see his green skin outside of the institute, no matter what environment and situation they happened to be in. It was a further reminder that they were one and the same, and if today's earlier events were anything to go by, the Goblin was becoming far more dominant.

_How is he always so quiet? I didn't even hear him come in! _Hayley thought hastily.

Not knowing what to say or do, she began to start fiddling with her hair nervously. The slight movement caused Harry's eyes to dart to her hands, critically appraising her chosen hairstyle with a disgusted sneer. Hayley watched dumbly as his right hand ghosted down the offensive auburn plait. His dappled green fingers curled around it, nails pinching at stray hairs and the woven, bulky braid. It was not enough to hurt, but a clear message demonstrating his annoyance and distaste.

"Har – "

As soon as she spoke one syllable, Harry released her unsatisfactory braid and slammed down a red box onto the dresser in front of her. His lightening speed caused her to shriek and jerk backwards, her back instantly hitting Harry's solid chest. She could feel him breathing steadily despite the ferocity of his movements. Her neck started to tickle as he leaned forward to place his lips near her ear.

"Open it," he demanded quietly, his voice a low rumble. Harry began to stroke her shoulders and neck possessively, hands slightly trembling from the illness that plagued him. "Open it. Now."

Quickly pulling the luxurious, red, leather box towards her, Hayley's eyebrow quirked questioningly when she saw the familiar gold lettering of "Cartier". She hastily peeked up at the mirror to see Harry's eyes boring into her own. It was a stare that was almost always impossible to look away from. No matter what colour eyes he had, Harry always held such authority in them; the only difference, was that his blue eyes were easier to read, for they held a deep sea of human emotion; the Goblin's eyes were full of raw power and supremacy.

"Open it."

Her hands hurriedly removed the lid to reveal the same emerald necklace and earrings her mugger, Andrei Kuzmin, had taken from her.

The pads of her fingers carefully felt the expensive stones, her breath hitching, "You…you bought me a replacement?"

Harry smirked, "Not quite. I am simply returning my gift that was stolen from you."

Trembling in disbelief, Hayley whispered, "But how? H-How did you…"

Her unfinished questions hung unanswered in the air, her speech rendered mute as Harry leaned over her to pluck the cool necklace from its casing. She felt trapped with his hands fixing the piece of jewellery around her neck. The last time he had touched her throat in such a fashion, his hands had left ugly bruises, which still remained beneath the jewels.

As he drew back, freeing her from his imposing embrace, Harry placed a small kiss atop her head. The simple action was very condescending, and Hayley felt uncertain whether his affection was indeed genuine or just another display of power. She decided on the latter as he smirked wickedly at the expensive emeralds around her neck.

Miniature prisms of light glittered around her, and Hayley momentarily gaped at its splendour, much like she had done earlier with her own hair. She could not deny the adoration and awe that she felt towards the jewels, despite how materialistic that sounded.

"Green really does look good on you," Harry murmured quietly, the tone making her tingle inside. "Tell me, how does my gift make you feel?"

"I-I…what?"

"Words, Hayley, I need words not useless noises."

"I-I-I'm not sure."

Harry rolled his eyes, her answer evidently not satisfactory. "When you wear these emeralds," he said, his hand resting on the necklace whilst his fingers stroked the skin of her chest, "when the necklace touches your skin, like this, how does it make you feel?"

"S-special," she whispered, her heart still racing whilst her skin became speckled with heat rash under his stroking fingertips.

"Good. What else?"

The situation made Hayley feel uneasy for some reason, and her mouth opened and closed dumbly, so she tried again, "Beautiful?"

"Why?"

"Why? Be-because I'm not that p-pretty."

"_Such self-esteem issues Ginge, I should buy you things more often,"_ the Goblin tittered with another mocking eye roll.

"So, you bought me this to make me feel better about myself?" Hayley queried slowly.

"No, you misunderstand. I bought you this because you are as beautiful, if not more so, than these emeralds. It was the only stone I thought could do you justice."

"That's the most beautiful thing anyone has ever said to me," she admitted breathily, leaning back into his chest and looking up at him, her emeralds eyes shining like the ones on her neck.

Harry grinned, putting his hands on her cheeks, gripping her face intensely. Then he stroked the column of her neck, eliciting a heavy sigh from the redhead. He enjoyed seeing her so receptive to his touch. Their earlier sexual antics proved that she still loved him, that she was his in mind, body, and soul. However he couldn't stop the nagging seed of insecure doubt that had been planted when Spider-Man stole her before his very eyes. He had been powerless to stop it, and it was not a feeling that Harry enjoyed at all. For all he knew, Peter could have poisoned her against him still.

And yet here she was, ready and willing beneath his fingers – that was not a reaction you could fake.

Harry bent forward and kissed her lips, revelling in the way that all the tension in her body was released by something as simple as a kiss. So he continued and increased his intensity. He quite enjoyed kissing her in this upside down position; it made her beautifully vulnerable. As the kiss deepened, his roaming hands brushed against her hair and he let out an irritated growl.

Hayley was so lost in heady intoxication that she barely registered that the slight roughness was something other than sexual. Then a small but sharp tugging motion broke the moment of sexual and splendid wonder.

Drawing back from her face, Harry stood up straight in total silence. His fingers began to move quickly, plucking at her hair, methodically unwinding the perfect ginger braid.

She resisted the need to roll her eyes at his actions. It was almost a textbook display of dominance. His preference for her hair to be in its usual sleek ponytail was not lost on her. Technically, she would rather keep her hair simple, but this small action of rebellion was an interesting way for her to monitor his state of mind. The more he began to trust her again, Hayley was certain his possessive nature would subside. It was really one of the only ways to consistently observe his behaviour against one constant variable, especially since he continued to resist their counselling sessions.

The plait had now become a symbol, a reminder of her past indiscretions of meeting Peter at Gwen's grave; she wore a braid the day those incriminating pictures where taken; the day Harry had discovered her secretive betrayal. He would always associate that event with her out of the ordinary hairstyle.

With her hair now released, Harry grabbed her hands, motioning her to put it into his preferred style. At this, Hayley did indeed roll her eyes at the absurdity.

"Better," he hummed, as the waterfall of auburn locks brushed freely against her shoulders, back in its usual high ponytail.

"How did you…how did the necklace…did someone find it?" Hayley asked, changing the subject from focusing on her hair. Besides, if these were the _same_ jewels, how had Harry acquired them?

"No."

"Did…did you take these back when you k-k-killed Kuzmin?"

"No," Harry said simply. Then after a short pause he added, "He returned them to me. Then I killed him."

"Killing is wrong Harry, your actions define you, remember?"

Harry sighed in agitation, "I killed Kinsey for trying to rape you, and you didn't argue over that. You practically ordered me to."

"Yes but – "

"So why should you even care that I disposed of the scumbag who scared, mugged, and hurt you?"

Hayley swallowed thickly, trying not to cry in frustration. His logic was completely wrong, she knew that. No one in their right mind thought like that. And that was the point – he wasn't in his right mind. However, there was a small sliver of truth in what he said; why_ should_ she care?

Because murder was murder regardless.

"I do not care about that man, but I do care that you felt that you had to kill him! For me!" she whispered. "You can't just kill all the people who hurt me."

"You should really keep better care of these you know, we wouldn't want them going missing again. That is what you do with a possession, Hayley, you take care of it, guard it, and cherish it," Harry informed her before planting another patronising kiss on her golden head. "I will always protect what is mine."

His words scared her; what lengths would he go to in order to keep her safe? To protect her?

The conversation she had with Kraven rushed through her mind as Harry started walking away from her and over to the bedroom door. Did the hunter not say that she also had to protect Harry? What could she possibly do to protect the man she loved from the criminal life that he had chosen?

She was powerless.

"Harry," she called softly as he reached the door, his image reflected in the mirror before her, "Where are you going?"

Without turning, Harry said shortly, "Out."

"But you're…you're…" Hayley gestured to his still green skin when he eventually turned to face her.

He quirked an eyebrow, goading her, "So?"

"What if someone sees you? I don't think Manners will be thrilled if the newspapers – "

"Quiet," Harry cut in. "In case you are somehow blind, it is dark outside."

Her eyes flicked over to the window to see that was indeed dusk. "I'm sorry, I'm just worried – "

"Well, can't you just stop!" he yelled, thumping his fist against the wall. "I am Harry Osborn, the Green Goblin – I can take care of myself! You, on the other hand, seem to be continuously getting into trouble, what with multiple hospital visits, getting mugged, being kidnapped, nearly raped – "

"Hey!" she interrupted, getting to her feet angrily. "First of all, I didn't plan on getting kidnapped! It's not my fault that you and Peter are not man enough to put aside your differences. Two –"

"_Careful Hayley, it would be in you best interest to sit down and shut up like the good little girl that you are,"_ the Goblin murmured darkly, his eyes clouding as green as his skin.

" – Two, it was _you_ who broke my fingers. Twice actually! And three – "

Suddenly, Harry was standing before her, eyes burning, "_And what is number three Ginge? We so desperately wish to know."_

Hayley swallowed, unsure whether to continue with her third point. But it had to be said. _"_Three…it is _I _who have been taking care of _you!" _

"_You really have crossed a line," _the Goblin growled, trying to control his temper. His hands started to twitch in anger, and this did not go unnoticed by his little redhead.

"What are you going to do? Strangle me to death like the last time?" Hayley spat heatedly. "You may have placed expensive jewels around my neck to make you feel better about yourself, but you won't be able to hide the purple bruises forever!"

"_I can give you bruises that only you and I will see."_

"Here, let me make it easier for you." Unclasping the necklace, Hayley placed it confidently onto the dresser, "Go on. Strangle me, Goblin. I know you want to." Rushing forward and grabbing his fidgeting hands, she held them to her neck, meeting his confused look with an air of indifference, "Don't you want to add more to the collection?"

The Goblin licked his lips and tensed his hands around her neck. "_You shouldn't add more fuel to the fire…you might get burned," _he snarled.

"I've already been burnt! Nothing you can do will_ ever_ trump that!"

"_Oooo, Ginge, are you asking me to try? Provide me a match, and I will strike it!"_

"You forget Goblin, I specialise in pyromania - you do not even know what a fire is!"

They glared at each other. Neither one wanted to be the first to break, so Hayley was surprised when the hands on her neck fell and those green eyes dropped their penetrative gaze.

"I'm going out," he repeated evenly, leaving no room for argument. His tone was sharp and clipped, almost daring her to protest again at his unaltered decision.

Hayley watched as he moved away, slightly astonished that she'd won this battle. "Fine."

When Harry reached the door, he turned to speak again but his eyes suddenly flared. "I better not find you've taken any of those pills," he ordered pointedly, his narrowed eyes fixed on the bottle beside the necklace on her vanity – it had gone unnoticed during their argument.

"If you want them so damn much, here, take them!" Hayley fumed, angrily grabbing the offending drugs and throwing them towards Harry.

They both watched the pills soaring through the air. The bottle never reached its desired target due to her poor aim, however, the message was clear.

"_You are really testing my limits! I am not an enemy you wish to make, so stop being so damn ungrateful!" _the Goblin snarled before storming from the room, the door slamming shut behind him.

With him no longer present, Hayley released a high-pitched sob. Her hands were trembling and she rubbed them harshly to make them stop. Had she really just done that?

Calling the Goblin's bluff was dangerous, but a huge win for her nonetheless. By asking and goading him to harm her, she had removed the element of dominant control. When given the choice to inflict more bruises, he had chosen not to. That proved to her that Harry still knew right from wrong, even when in a green rage. Hayley now had a confirmed tool to use against him – the love and affection he had for her. Not that she wanted to exploit their relationship, but he was certainly heading in that direction with his behaviour towards her. However, she couldn't use that technique every time he went crazy. The strangling she had received the previous day proved that; even though he loved her, in that moment, he had chosen to harm her.

She was always walking on eggshells with Harry, but now it felt like she was standing on a frozen lake. The cracks in her life were becoming more and more defined, and it was up to her to sink or swim.

Her eyes focused on the forlorn bottle lying on the floor. All these arguments over something as small as a simple tablet. Reluctantly, she wandered over to pick it up and remove it. The medication felt so heavy in her hands, with the realisation that their fight was unfinished, its weighty significance filling her with dread. It was practically predictable how he would react if he saw the medication again. So Hayley opened the top drawer of her vanity table and chucked them inside.

_Was the drawer really the best place for them? _She wondered.

After all, she had found them so easily when Harry had similarly hid them.

She moved and readjusted the stationary and notebooks contained in the drawer, so as to conceal the little bottle better. A few pages of notes from her Ravencroft patient observation files became disgruntled and disorderly. However, what caught her attention was a small, white card with elegantly printed typography. It was intertwined in her fingers before she even realised it. She brushed her thumb along its hard edges, gasping slightly when it cut her finger. Small specks of blood smudged over the card, but the name on it was unspoiled and still legible; Doctor Emily Baker.

Hayley glanced up at her reflection and licked her thumb to remove the blood. She leaned over the dresser, the light causing her to appear as a skeletal phantom, mimicking Harry's somewhat sneaky entrance earlier.

"I am the shadow. You are the dark," she whispered. "You will always be longing for me to begin spiralling downward…"

* * *

A week later, the New York City police discovered two unidentified, female bodies. Both young, overly tanned women had not a stitch of clothing on them, other than ruby red lipstick covering every inch of their naked flesh. One singular and offensive word was written over and over; "WHORE."

Neither woman had their head still attached to their inscribed bodies, for both wore bright orange jack-o-lanterns, which were grinning sadistically. The macabre Halloween Barbie's were posed outside the Ravencroft Institute for the Criminally Insane. But what boggled the police investigators was how this crime was connected to the murder of Andrei Kuzmin, because the same killer undoubtedly did both. The pumpkin signature was far too distinct to be a copycat. Especially since there was one aspect from the first murder that had not been released to the press.

Along with the decapitation and use of pumpkins, the killer had poured gasoline onto the backs of all three victims, burning and mutilating the skin.

* * *

**Where the flipping fudge monkeys have I been? Thank you all for being so patient with me! February was a bad month for me with family issues - my grandparents are ill and it's been a strain emotionally, thus my entire monthly absence. **

**However, BOOM! I will be back to my usual two monthly chapter updates, starting now! **

**Thank you, you wonderful readers, reviewers, followers and favouriters – and new readers, HELLO! You all keep me sane and loving my writing life. MUCH LOVE xxx – feel free to kill me for my absence…I deserve death by pumpkin bombs.**

**Huge loves to everyone who reviewed with a "hurry up" and "update soon" message, especially Guest, Fan, and Liana – you guys got my ass in gear!**


	28. Chapter 28

**Featured song**: _Eyes Wide_ – Meadowlark

* * *

**I do not own Spider-Man, The Amazing Spider-Man 2 movie, video game or anything related to the Marvel franchise! But I do own my OC's and the plot…and a grey coat, which is my fav XD**

* * *

He had been signed off work due to his still green skin, and for some reason that meant she could not go to work either, though she no idea why. Hayley would have asked him but they were no longer speaking – he did not deserve that luxury. She had moved into the adjoining room permanently because of their little tiff.

At night, she even refused to seek him out during his terrors.

It had killed her to do so and her eyes streamed with tears the first night, as she lay still with a fist in her mouth to stifle her sobs. Harry had sought her out, screaming and rambling, crouched by her bed like an abandoned puppy. But as soon as she reached for him, her palm tentatively caressing his hot forehead, the spell had been broken. He had shoved her concerned hand aside and stormed back into his room.

The nightly disturbances that followed were relentless, frequent, and worse than ever. However, he never came to her again, and she never went to his aid. Maybe it was a blessing that they both had the week off.

Hayley hid for the majority of the days, spending her time in her room rereading books. The only times she ventured out were to use the bathroom and to grab a few things at mealtimes, but even that she would take and eat in her room, alone. Deliberately isolating herself instead of dealing with the problem would only make things worse between them, that she knew. Yet, the thought of grovelling back to Harry and apologising for whatever she had done was not something Hayley wanted to do.

_He_ was the one who had started all their arguing. _He _had taken away her medication, her drug safety net. _He _had blamed her for being attacked and injured all the time. The Goblin had cruelly mentioned the burning of her parents, and then had the audacity to try to make peace by dressing her up in expensive finery. It just wasn't right and she had had enough of his selfish and childish behaviour. Plus, he was being an all-around, egotistical prick.

_I have nothing to apologise for, I didn't do anything, _Hayley repeated to herself constantly in her mind.

It was her new mantra. That and those three irritating lines, forever etched into her brain.

_I am the shadow. You are the dark. You will always be longing for me to begin spiralling downward._

Sighing to herself, Hayley fixed her hair with trembling hands. They seemed to always to be shaking these days, and she did wonder if it was a withdrawal side effect from stopping her medication so abruptly. Stress was the other contributor. Today however, she knew it was something else, something far more disturbing that was causing her heart to race and her body to quiver.

"Calm down, Hayley, you have to stay calm," she spoke to herself quietly, trying to take in steady breaths as she walked from her room and through the bathroom. She stopped at the door leading to Harry's room. "Come on, don't be scared. You can't show him anything. No emotional upset. You must not respond if he mentions…I have nothing to apologise for and I didn't do anything!" Hayley whispered almost inaudibly, her hand on the doorknob, slowly easing the door open.

Nothing. No Harry in sight.

_Thank god! Now, is he in the manor at all?_

She could hear the television buzzing incomprehensible noise in the apartment, but that could mean anything. It didn't necessarily imply that Harry was around, since he often left it on at night just to annoy her. However, it did make her feel slightly more apprehensive, if that was even at all possible.

Hayley opened the door, the final barrier between her and the living area, and immediately froze in the doorway.

Empty bottles of alcohol were cluttered together on the coffee table, along with plates and boxes of unfinished food, week-old newspapers, and manila folders. All four television monitors were on but only one was producing any sound. The large windows were open, the breeze caressing the blue curtains, whilst the papers on the table and floor fluttered. No matter how fresh the air was it could not mask the stench of alcohol and old takeout food.

Harry was stretched out on his preferred grey sofa, the television remote held lazily in his hand, with his arm dangling near the cool, marble floor. There were four full bottles of various liquids near his occupied hand, all begging to be opened and consumed.

Judging by the amount of bottles, Hayley wondered whether he was currently intoxicated.

He appeared like a king on his throne, completely at ease, owning the chaos that was surrounding him and that which he caused. The skin on his neck was still irritated, and Hayley could see clearly for the first time what it looked like. A large oval shaped lesion dominated the right side of his throat, the skin appearing hard and thick, almost like a piece of bark. There were deep, half-moon shaped, red marks that were from his constant scratching. All the veins near the area were black and pulsing; his Retroviral Hypodysplasia was at its worse on his neck. The rest of his body was still green but nowhere near as angry.

As she went to take a step back into his room, Harry's narrowed eyes darted in her direction, his body stiffening slightly at the sight of her. Those icy blues did not linger on her for long, barely even a moment, before they were back transfixed on the television.

She wondered what to do. Should she say something? Speak to him? Did she really want to have another argument on such a beautiful day? He quite clearly was at home in his misery and he wasn't really worth her breath right now…

"Do you have something to say, or are you just going to stand there and annoy me all day?" Harry asked rudely, not even looking her way.

"Do_ you_ want to talk about the explosives under your bed?" she retorted, and noted how his jaw clenched at her question – yet another secret he had kept from her.

"_Our _bed."

"Oh no, it very clearly is _your _bed."

Harry scowled at the redhead, "I do not owe you an explanation."

She glared at him, feeling the white-hot anger bubbling up inside of her, needing to be released. "No, you don't. But the fact that you are endangering _my_ life and that of my patient, oh wait, _former _patient, then I'm afraid you _do _owe me," she seethed spitefully, though still kept her voice as even as she could. Emotional restraint was needed today.

"I'll save it for my therapy sessions," he muttered sarcastically with a cheeky grin curling his lips.

The mocking undertones of his statement hung in the air like bullets frozen in time, poised and ready to pierce their victim.

"So, never then?"

"Precisely."

"_Bingo Ginge," _the Goblin contributed abruptly.

The bullets hit their mark, and Hayley shook her head sadly; was she really that bad of a therapist? He obviously had no confidence in her at all.

Harry turned up the volume on the television making it uncomfortably loud, as he watched and waited agitatedly for her to acknowledge it. In his peripheral vision, he could tell that the noise hadn't even made her flinch, so he steadily increased the volume. Still no reaction, only that of her eyes flickering around the room, looking anywhere other than him or the television. So he put it on full blast and grinned when Hayley put her hands over her ears, trying to stifle the painful noise.

The Osborn's were not known for their patience. Neither was the Goblin.

Harry muted the television. "Seen the news?" he asked casually, barely able to contain himself.

"Hmmm?" Hayley replied trying her best to be aloof and passive. "Yeah, I saw nothing remotely interesting."

"Uh, well, why don't you take another look then," he said pointedly. "_Don't make me force you."_

Hayley quickly glanced at the TV screen, already knowing what the "breaking news" story was; it took everything she had not to flinch at the graphic images displayed, to try and keep her hands from trembling further – she would not allow him the satisfaction of a reaction.

"I see they still can't identify the girls…" she observed quietly.

Hayley knew exactly who the two women were, even without seeing their faces; the girls were Becca and Cheryl.

No matter how horrid they had both been they did not deserve this. No one did.

She had never wished for their demise like she had secretly for Kuzmin, and commanded for Kinsey. Even though she had not committed the act, their blood was on her hands. It made Hayley feel dirty and ashamed, guilty even; she was just as much a murderer as Harry. However, the one thing that terrified her was the dreadful feeling that this was not over. How far was Harry willing to take this? Who would be next? Would there be others executed by her personal, green, angel of death? Well, goblin of death.

Going to the police was out of the question; Hayley knew that they would not believe her, and even if they did, she would go down with Harry. His end goal eluded her, but one thing was for sure, the web he was weaving had entrapped her and there was no way out. No one could save her. Not even Spider-Man.

She looked back at the television and saw a few more images that the police had released. The pictures were carefully photographed, close-up shots so as not to cause alarm; wide-angle shots of the fully exhibited bodies were not shown. Specific characteristics were publicised, like their fake tan, fake nails, and toned bodies, and Hayley would have recognised them regardless of their discovery outside the Ravencroft Institute.

They were like two broken marionette dolls, propped up and posed for their audience; the whole theatre was filled but only Hayley had a front row seat. This message was for her alone.

The shots of their pumpkin faces revealed grotesque, carved smiles with ruby red lipstick smeared like lips around their cackling mouths. The writing on their bodies was meticulous, making the offensive word clear and unmissable. One would think that their and missing heads would frighten Hayley, but what scared her about this incident _was_ the body writing. How did Harry know that Becca and Cheryl had called her a whore? That they had written that horrid word on a newspaper placed on her desk the day she left Ravencroft? She could not recollect ever telling him about their nasty, bullying prank.

"Hidden the heads have you?" Hayley asked nonchalantly, hoping and praying that the bile burning her throat would not come up.

"I might have," Harry said evasively, his delivery frosty. "I'm sure they'll turn up. You should have faith in the NYPD. I am certain they'll locate the parts…eventually," he smirked, as he picked up one of the bottles on the floor and took a large gulp of Scotch.

"For both our sakes, I hope they don't!" she hissed, before stopping and composing herself. "I don't know what you wish to achieve by this crusade of yours. It is not going to make me like you anymore than I already do. In fact, it is making me like you less!"

"Grow up Hayley, not everything is about you. Are you really that self-centred?"

"Don't try to use reverse psychology on me, Harry, it makes you look stupid."

"_So petty today, doll,"_ the Goblin replied calmly with a sickeningly sweet smile.

Hayley wanted nothing more than to punch him, but she couldn't let herself sink to his level. Getting all riled up would not achieve anything other than to feed his ego even more. He wanted her attention, craved her emotionally charged responses to his villainous schemes, so she took another moment and counted to ten in her head.

"The police can identify them without their heads, you know. There is a database that holds fingerprints for medical license renewal."

Grinning smugly to herself, Hayley thought; _HA! Bet you didn't think of that, Harry Osborn! _

"_As if she thinks that could stop us!"_ the Goblin laughed inside Harry's mind.

"They won't be able to identify them for a while…I burnt off their finger prints."

Hayley's stomach flipped. "Well…w-what about dental records?"

"_Please,"_ the Goblin scoffed aloud,_ "don't insult me."_

"You are ridiculous if you think these are effective enough measures!" she retorted more confidently than she felt. "You should have just left their I.D tags on them, it's honestly that obvious who they are!"

"To you maybe," Harry said quietly, "but then, that's the point isn't it? This is all for you, correct?"

She blanched, completely lost. "Is-isn't…it's not?"

"You're not _that_ important you know. There _are_ things in my life other than you," he spoke condescendingly with a wicked grin, like a parent disciplining their child. "Very selfish of you to think otherwise, really."

Something Kraven had said to her flashed through her mind_: There are forces other than what you see little, lamb._

"You can't just get rid of people!"

"That is the Osborn way," Harry mused darkly.

Hayley's hands clenched at her sides and her eyebrow rose defiantly. "Argh. I'm not having this conversation with you," she proclaimed, storming past him and the couch, making a beeline for the door. In her haste she failed to remember that she didn't have her coat or handbag with her.

Vaulting over the couch from where he sat, Harry rushed towards her, knocking over a couple of bottles, causing the liquid to spill and glass to smash. He caught up to her in four quick paces, his angry eyes noticing for the first time that she was wearing her emerald earrings. This small gesture pleased him immensely, but it was not enough to quell the rage radiating through his body.

"Don't turn your back on me, Hayley!" he growled, grabbing her upper arm and spinning her to face him.

Letting out a small, shaky breath, Hayley winced at the painful grip on her arm, and said unconfidently, "I'm not! I just…I-I'm going out."

Instantly, Harry responded sharply, "No you are not!"

"This isn't a fairy tale Harry Osborn, y-you can't keep me locked up in here!"

"You can't go out looking the way you do!" Harry waited for her to respond but instead he noted the confusion on her face, so he elaborated, "_The bruises, Ginge,_" he lamented, trailing a single, green finger down her throat.

"Well, whose fault is that?" she appeased, her eyes watering at the memory. His finger trailed back up her neck, across her jaw, and delicately flicked her earring. Immediately her eyes hardened, not wanting to show him the emotion he craved, "I'll wear a scarf, _ok_?"

"Why do you need to leave?" he enquired, growing increasingly irritated at her constant defiance. Was their fight that bad that she wished to leave him?

_Because I'm going crazy being around you! _Hayley thought.

"My fingers," she said simply, presenting her broken fingers and waving them in front of his face, "they need a new cast."

The fingers in question had a broken cast with numerous cracks in it, the plaster splintered and crumbling away beyond repair. The only reason it was still attached was because of the surgical masking tape Hayley had used to hold it together. It was shoddy work but better than nothing.

Harry rolled his eyes at her fingers and released her arm, turning away, his full attention returning to the television. "Fine," he said reluctantly as he flopped back onto the couch.

"I might have asked you to come with me," she responded sarcastically to the back of his head, "but, you know, you're still green. And it is still light outside."

"If I had known you would end up being so argumentative, I would never have chosen you. Life would be so much easier if you did what you were told," Harry grumbled. He grabbed one of the fallen bottles and swigged the last remaining alcohol from it, raising his arm in a mocking toast. "You are a far cry from the little mouse you were in Ravencroft."

"I've just remembered my true self. I have you to thank for that."

"Go then. I have a meeting with Fiers and Manners, and I do not want you eavesdropping again."

This time, Hayley rolled her eyes. "I don't need your fucking permission," she muttered quietly, though not quietly enough.

"Excuse me?"

Biting her lip, the redhead stood frozen as Harry very calmly stood from the couch and walked back over towards her. His whole body was coiled tightly like a spring, jaw clenched with the monumental rage he was trying to supress, the kind of rage that had caused his eyes to burn green.

"You will _always_ need my fucking permission!" Harry snarled, advancing on her until he could practically feel her shallow breath on his face. _"This isn't a game you can win, Hayley. Now, be the good girl I know you can be, and go get a scarf,"_ the Goblin said quietly, holding her face in his hands, stroking her cheeks with his fingers. _"I need you Ginge, remember?"_

She nodded obediently, ducking her head in defeat, and Harry watched her disappear into his room to gather her things from her own. It frustrated him that he could not escort her to the hospital; for all he knew, she was lying to him and going to meet Peter again. This feeling of constant jealousy and possessive anxiousness had wormed its way into his heart and mind. He and the Goblin both had trust issues, and they weren't fading with time.

Hayley was dressed so beautifully today, and if it wasn't for their little spat, nothing would have stopped him from peeling the clothes off her body. For being housebound, she had dressed herself rather nicely over the week; more sophisticated than her usual t-shirt and jeans combo. Green pumps and some strange, wet-look trousers replaced her ratty Converse and comfy leggings, not that he was complaining. The material clung to her stick-like legs, and even though they looked fantastically sexy on her, the trousers highlighted how small she was. Harry was growing concerned for his little ginger doll. She was more than skinny. All Hayley seemed to eat was cornflakes, hot chocolate, and half her portion of food at dinnertime. He wasn't sure if these suspected food issues were down to stress or something deeper, a reaction to her fiery past.

He would have to get Manners to bring him her medical files to read over again.

Hayley emerged with her camel coat and a thick scarf, handbag draped over her shoulder. "Do you want me to buy some pumpkins while I'm out?" she asked sweetly, her voice dripping with taunting disdain.

"You shouldn't joke about these things, Hayley," Harry said seriously, eyes burning into hers as she stood in the doorway once again. "_You might end up with one on your own pretty little head. Then you'll only be able to mock me through a jack-o-lantern smile." _

His tone caught her off guard with the deadpan and sincere delivery – it frightened her. How could he still be so menacing, so powerful, when he was only leaning against the large marble dinner table? The way he stared at her with those come-hither eyes, which were still very alluring when shaded green, made her fear that he would lead her astray if she gave in to his constant temptations. Right now, Hayley wanted more than anything to go to him, to kiss his smirking lips…but that was what he wanted, wasn't it?

He wanted her to want him. To want him and look past every single villainous indiscretion he may have. And there would be many. There had already been many.

So instead of listening to her heart and giving into his hypnotic eyes, she walked up to him, offering her cheek when he went to kiss her lips.

"I'll be back," she reassured, giving his shoulder a small squeeze with her good hand.

"Don't take too long," he whispered back, a small shred of the real Harry slipping through the façade.

She smiled sadly before leaving him to his thoughts.

"_Oh, and Hayley. If I find out you've secretly met Peter Parker again…well, let's just hope that you're smart enough not to."_

* * *

Hospitals really did suck. The overly clean smell hurt her nose, whilst the numerous patients surrounding her in the waiting room were making her ears bleed with their loud and pointless conversations. It didn't help that a family with four children all under the age of ten were sitting next to her. Even Metallica couldn't drown out their screeching voices.

_It's like an assault on all the senses in here! _Hayley grumbled to herself.

She noticed that the receptionists and a couple of nurses were scrutinising her with their beady eyes. Hayley was certain that they couldn't see the bruises on her neck, because her scarf was wrapped up so tight that she could barely breathe. Maybe her music was too loud? There was no way they'd be able to hear it from across the room, especially when it was filled with so many noisy people. Whatever the reason, Hayley wished they would all just stop staring.

That was another reason why she avoided hospitals like the plague - overly assertive and judgemental doctors and staff. At least Doctor Aldington never looked at her like that. Her follow-up appointment with him was next month, and although she liked the man, she was dreading it also.

Being of the medical profession, Hayley knew that she really should be more respectful towards practitioners. Maybe it was her young age or that the medicinal environment brought back painful memories, but she really did despise hospitals. She was borderline phobic.

Or maybe it was because she no longer felt apart of the medical field. She had been replaced after all.

That's way working in Ravencroft had been ideal because its layout and environment was more like a prison than a hospital. No one particularly noticed her or judged her because the patient's were much more fascinating than she could ever be. It had also been perfect because she was surrounded by people who were more crazy and psychotic than the monsters of her past. She could breathe easily around weirdos because no matter how much they scared her, they were a constant reminder of what she had almost become. Of what she had been in that moment with the match in her hand…

"Miss Hayley Carmichael."

Glancing up she peered over to the source of the kind voice; May Parker was standing by a set of double doors. Her soft brown eyes were twinkling and her mothering smile instantly calmed Hayley's anxious feelings and thoughts. The older nurse was a complete and welcomed contrast to the stern ones who were still giving her strange looks.

Smiling, the redhead gladly jumped out of her seat ad rushed over to follow the woman through the double doors and along the many winding corridors.

"I didn't expect to see you again so soon," the nurse remarked in a friendly tone. "I hear you're having problem with your cast?"

"Yeah. Yes, it…er…it kind of broke…"

May Parker glanced down at the girl's right hand, "What did you do, you silly thing? It looks you hit it with a hammer!"

"Haha, yeah, something like that," Hayley replied evasively, as she quickly sat down on a hospital bed.

They had entered a small side room, much like the one she had been in on her previous visit. It had the same disgusting walls and smell, but there was no plaster and bandages laid out for a new cast. Hayley frowned in confusion and scrutinised the x-rays of her damaged bones.

On the wall light box were two x-rays of her hand; one was from her first visit, the other had been taken an hour earlier before she had occupied a seat in the waiting room.

"You're very lucky you know. The break in your fingers is healing nicely and quickly enough that you will no longer need a full plaster cast."

"Seriously? Thank god!" Hayley breathed a sigh of relief.

She held out her hand for the older nurse to carefully and gradually remove the battered cast. The redhead winced as the broken plaster and tape pulled slightly on her fingers as it was being dismantled. The pain was minimal but it still hurt, the tender skin in certain areas. Her fingers felt very weak with the cast fully removed, and it appeared like they had shrunk due to their inactivity. The cool air made Hayley want to wriggle her fingers.

"Now don't start moving anything!" May chastised kindly, as she wiped down the fingers with water and rubbing alcohol. "I know I said you were a quick healer, but a break still takes six to eight weeks to fully heal!"

Hayley nodded in understanding, and let the nurse go about her work.

"Did you come alone today, or is Harry in the waiting room?"

"Oh, erm…no. He's at home. He had a lot of work to do."

"Yes, Peter mentioned you had moved in together."

"He did?"

"After seeing you both on the news together in those pictures…" May tailed off. "Well, I asked Peter if there was any truth in those ridiculous tabloids – "

"What did he say?"

"Nothing at first. It's like getting blood from a stone with Peter, he constantly avoids awkward conversations. He told me that you were with Harry Osborn and that you now live with him," May replied cheerfully. "I don't know what the big fuss was about, but the lies must of affected Peter in some way. I said that I would be happy for him if he had found someone. He has seemed so lost since Gwen's passing…"

Hayley swallowed thickly, realising that she had never really considered how the pictures might have affected Peter in that way. "I think we've all been lost…I know I have," she sighed distantly, before wincing as the first finger splint was put in place. "Did he say much else about, well, about me and Harry?"

As strange and surreal as this conversation was, she couldn't shake the feeling that whatever she said to May Parker might be relayed back to Peter. It was crazy to be suspicious of such a kind person, to act so cautious. There was no way May was going to report every single detail of their conversation. Not consciously anyway.

"Not really. Peter's never in the house long enough to have a proper conversation. He's always gallivanting around, probably saving the world, or whatever it is you kids do these days."

"Yeah, Peter does a lot of that," Hayley mumbled uneasily.

Just as the final splint was fixed in place, three strong knocks sounded on the door.

"Come in," May called out merrily.

"Hey Aunt May!" Peter Parker replied as he entered the room, clutching a brown, paper bag in his hand. "You forgot your lunch this mor…" he tailed off when he caught sight of the redhead on the bed.

_Shit! So much for not meeting up with Parker today! Harry is going to flip when he finds out!_

Their eyes connected, neither one knowing exactly how to act around each other. They were no longer friends, more like enemies. Except that in this form, without his spider suit, Peter was still the same gangly, awkward boy who loved Gwen. He was not her enemy; he was Harry's enemy, and her ex-friend. Enemy was too strong a word when he didn't look like Spider-Man, though she was still furious with Peter for leaving her on that building roof.

Because Spider-Man and Peter _were_ the same person.

_I've been a hanging out with Harry too long. Peter doesn't have a split personality. He is Spider-Man. He is my enemy…so why am I not ready to let him go? _Hayley thought, a migraine of confusion seeping across her forehead.

"Hey Carmichael," Peter acknowledged awkwardly, shuffling his feet on the floor, a hand ruffling his hair nervously.

"H-Hey Parker," replied Hayley just as uncomfortably.

May looked between the two, shaking her head, "You both look like you've seen a ghost. And using your surnames is so antisocial for friends," she chuckled. "Is that for me, Peter?" she asked, pointing to the paper bag that he was currently scrunching in his hand. "Don't kill it before I've even eaten it! I'll go put it in the staff fridge. You are free to go, Hayley dear," Aunt May explained with a smile, taking the bag from her nephew and heading for the door.

"Thank you, Mrs Parker! I won't break it again!"

"No, but I'm sure Harry will," Peter muttered under his breath as his aunt left the room.

Hayley glared at her former friend. "I think you should leave, Peter."

"Leave? Why would I leave? I'm here to see my Aunt!" he responded indignantly.

"And you just saw her…so, please leave."

Peter put his hands in his hoody pockets, "I'm sorry you know…about the roof thing."

"No you are not!"

"I am!"

"You wouldn't have done it otherwise," Hayley hissed, cradling her splinted fingers. "I can't be seen talking to you, ok? Please, leave."

"It's a free country."

"Don't be awkward Parker."

"Is this another one of Harry's stupid rules?" he asked cockily, seeing through her bravado. "Pretty specific rules, you know, bet that's not the only one, right? You shouldn't let him control you – "

"Fine then! I'll leave!"

Jumping off the bed, Hayley slung her forgotten bag over her shoulder, picked up her coat, and tried to go for the door, which was slightly ajar. Before she could even reach it, Peter moved directly in front of her, blocking her path.

"Move, Parker!"

"We need to talk – "

"Move!"

"Hayley – "

"Please! _Please! _I can't do this! Please move! Please!" she shrieked tearfully.

"The girl would like you to move," came a familiar Russian voice. "I suggest you comply, Spider. She is not a fly to be trapped in your web."

Peter turned sharply, and Hayley peered over his shoulder to see Kraven the hunter standing in the doorway. He was always so quiet, such a perfect predator, that neither of them had noticed his sudden presence. Hayley thought that he looked odd and out of place against the white door in his camouflage trousers and black, leather, hunter's jacket. The hospital lights glittered in his fierce eyes as he surveyed the situation with poise and militant precision.

"Kraven," Peter responded as he turned, standing slightly taller, chin raised arrogantly.

The hunter nodded, "Peter Parker." Then his eyes looked pointedly at Hayley, "I think we should leave."

"Yes, I think you should too."

Hayley glanced between the two, completely confused because they seemed to know each other. Clearly, she was being kept in the dark…again.

_How the hell did they both know each other? _She wondered, as she slipped past Peter and led the hunter down the corridors.

"What are you doing here, Kraven?" she asked more harshly than she meant to.

"Mr Osborn sent me," he replied honestly in his usual gruff lilt. "He is very angry you did not take bodyguard to accompany you here."

"Oops."

A sudden and shrill beeping noise made her jump, but Kraven calmly pulled out a cellphone from his jacket. Holding it to his ear, he said, "Yes Mr Osborn, I am with the lamb - "

Hayley rolled her eyes at the sentiment, "Tell him I haven't found any pumpkins yet!"

" - She is safe."

"Like you care," she muttered like a petulant child, her comment not going unheard by Kraven.

She could hear snippets of his agitated voice through the receiver but nothing that formed actual sentences – reception was always bad in hospitals. Although she wished to know what the two men were discussing, Kraven was only giving one-word answers, and she was having difficulties locating the exit since she was apparently leading the way. That was yet another reason why she disliked hospitals; there was either never enough signs, or no matter how many signs there were, you always got lost. Hayley didn't know this part of the hospital well enough like she did the burns unit.

When her predator escort put away the phone, she immediately asked, "So, what did he say?"

"You should not goad him," he replied.

"I know, but sometimes he _does_ ask for it."

"Shall we go back now?" Kraven asked, following the redhead blindly through the maze of corridors.

"Not yet. I think I need some fresh air to clear my head."

The hunter stayed silent for a while, taking notice of her slumped posture and the dark bags under her green eyes. There was a distant look to them, and the whites appeared to be red from crying. She was putting on a brave front but she couldn't fool him. His keen eyesight could still detect the bruises that were peeking out from beneath her scarf.

The stress of living with a villainous predator such as Harry Osborn was obviously getting to her, and it was not the first time that Kraven worried for her safety. Her red hair had lost its shine and her face was overly pale. There was hardly enough meat on her bones to satisfy a lion cub, let alone someone as ferocious as the Goblin…

"Pardon?"

The redhead repeated, "I said I don't want to go home."

"Where would you like to go?" Kraven probed as they entered the deafening waiting room.

"Can we go somewhere quiet?" Hayley yelled over a piercing symphony of crying babies.

* * *

"I wouldn't exactly call this quiet," Hayley said, looking around at the various people milling about, "but it is serene, I'll give you that."

"Try to get your body in tune with nature."

Hayley rolled her eyes at the hunter's strange visionary way of seeing the world.

Kraven had taken her to the East River waterfront in Lower Manhattan. The surrounding boulevard and parks were swarming with children and families, but as they reached a small rock beach shore, everyone seemed to have melted away. She could still hear the giant merry-go-round in the background with kids laughing and enjoying themselves on candy coloured horses. Numerous couples were standing along the railings, admiring the view. And what a view it was.

The Brooklyn Bridge stood magnificent and untouchable, the cars trailing along its length appearing like ants. All the buildings on the opposite shore were architecturally stunning, with Hayley appreciating every single bit of detail like a painted picture. Though on closer inspection, she realised that the skyscrapers were a little too familiar. Her mouth went dry and she started to feel queasy; memories of flying high with Spider-Man returned to her. She quickly crouched down and dipped her fingertips into the water as it lapped against the rocky shore. The river's flow seemed more turbulent when up close and personal with it, no longer a sheet of unmoving glass.

Regardless of her arachnid memories, she still couldn't deny that the view was gorgeous, even on such an overcast day. It was slightly windy down by the river, and even though she knew her hair would be in knots later, Hayley released her ponytail, and its ginger strands began to fly in the cool air. She watched the water for a few minutes, getting lost in all the colours and its hypnotic, small waves. Everything was so peaceful down here, and she could see why the hunter had brought her to this spot. Hayley turned her head to see Kraven standing a little way behind her, tall and stoic as always. He seemed to be in deep thought too, or maybe he was getting "in tune with nature" like he had told her to do.

It almost seemed a shame to disturb him but she had questions buzzing in her brain.

"Kraven…you know _who _Peter Parker _is, _don't you?"she asked curiously. For a moment it seemed like the older man had not heard her or was buying time to think of a suitable lie, so she was surprised when he revealed the truth.

"I took Spider-Man under my tutelage, to change him from a boy into a man, a true hunter. He excelled, naturally, but he would not take the routes necessary to achieve greatness."

"Killing people?"

"You are sharp, little lamb," Kraven chuckled. "I initially came here to hunt the monsters that OsCorp created…all the cross-species. Even the Spider-Man. Only after he defeated me did Mr Fiers enlist me. When the spider took you, the Goblin trusted me with Parker's true identity. Mr Osborn is far better student than Parker - "

"So _you're_ the one teaching him how to kill people?!" she asked indignantly.

The hunter did not react to the girl's anger; he only stood with his arms crossed, eyes surveying the river. "I am teaching him to control his natural predator instincts, to respect his opponents and not underestimate them. Human life is so fragile, it must be protected from those who seek to destroy it."

Hayley picked up a small pebble and chucked it frustratedly into the water. "How is chopping people's heads off _respecting_ human kind?"

"That…" Kraven paused, "that was unexpected. He has evolved into a far dangerous predator than I could have predicted."

"I just don't understand his angle. Why is he doing this?"

"Mr Osborn has many plans, you would be wise not to question them. Secrets are secrets for a reason, little lamb."

"So I should just ignore the fact that he has explosives under his bed?"

"KRAVINOFF! MISS CARMICHAEL!" came a fast approaching, booming voice. "How good to see you this fine day!"

"Fisk," Kraven returned bitterly.

Hayley looked over her shoulder to see the larger than life man she had met at the benefit. She smiled at the pristine, suited man, offering him a little wave out of curtesy. Wilson Fisk was the kind of rich person she loathed, dressed to the nines and shoving his money under everyone's nose. By the sour look on Kraven's face, it appeared the hunter had a great dislike for the man too.

"What business have you here, Fisk?" the hunter probed, his eyes immediately darting to where Hayley stood by the shore's edge.

"Relax Kravinoff," Wilson Fisk reassured, puffing out his burly chest as he spoke, "my business is with you, not the girl."

The men shared an intense look before walking a small way away from Hayley so they could talk in private. The redhead frowned in frustration since she knew their conversation was most likely about her or Harry.

"Yet another secret being kept from me, no doubt," she sighed to herself whilst assessing her feelings towards the wealthy man.

Like Kraven, he was an intimidating man, but mostly due to his large height and size; he did not have muscles like the hunter. The alarm came from how Fisk chose to present himself. No one wore a white suit or had a diamond encrusted cane unless they wanted to use their money as a tool of power. At least Harry despised his rich status and didn't flaunt it at any given moment. Even the type of cigar the man was smoking appeared like it cost more than all the clothes she was wearing. No doubt it was an imported Cuban.

Kraven and Fisk were too far away for her to hear any of their conversation, and any other day she would have tried harder to eavesdrop, but after today she just needed to escape from all this. So instead, her eyes focused on the plume of smoke swirling up from the cigar, the way the little grey cloud billowed and swirled in the air. It was strangely mesmerising, the burning end glowing orange, standing out in her gaze like a lighthouse beacon. Hayley was even getting hints of its aromatic smell on the wind. She had always found the sight of smoke alluring…

Blinking rapidly, she grabbed a couple more stones and chucked them violently into the river. Droplets of water splashed her face, and a couple of people turned to stare at the redhead's strange behaviour. Hayley glared back at them until they looked away.

_Nosey people, _Hayley thought, _can't they see I just want to be left alone? _

She sighed and instead of being violent, she tried to calmly skim small, smooth pebbles across the river. Her technique sucked, especially since her preferred hand had two out of action fingers. Apparently the skill to skipping stones was all in the wrist, something that unfortunately her left hand was greatly inadequate at.

Her latest stone plopped after two short skims, making the water ripple in an elegant circle. Hayley stared at the pattern, engrossed by its simplistic beauty. Everything in life had a ripple effect because that's what life choices were about; cause and effect.

Like her relationship with Harry; sometimes they were a smoothly sailing pebble, happy and content on their course. Other times their choices shattered the serene equilibrium and they began to fall apart, growing further away from each other with each ripple event. The more she considered this point of view, the more she realised how deep an issue Peter Parker was for Harry in her relationship with him.

He probably felt rejected and humiliated when he'd seen the pictures of her and Peter. No doubt he felt emasculated and useless when Spider-Man had "kidnapped" her. And though she had returned to him, came back because she loved him, there was always going to be that fear that she could one day leave again. Leave him for Spider-Man and the side of good. Leave him for Peter and rekindle her friendship with him. Their constant bickering most likely exacerbated these issues.

"I need to make it up to him," Hayley said aloud to herself, "I need to show him that I understand his fears, that I do love him. I know I didn't do anything wrong, but he's just insecure under all that bravado…even the Goblin."

She glanced back to Kraven, and when their eyes connected there was a silent understanding between them both; she now understood what he had told her the other day; she needed to save Harry from himself.

_God, Kraven really knows what he's talking about when he says to connect with nature, _Hayley considered with a smile.

The hunter was a crafty and philosophical man, and even though she did not approve of his relationship with Harry, she couldn't think of a better father figure. Kraven was better than Fisk any day, and Harry needed direction, needed guidance. Sure, killing people was not exactly what she had in mind, however Kraven seemed much more than just a heartless, killing machine. He had a clear code, and Hayley hoped that that would eventually rub off on Harry before he did something stupid.

Standing, Hayley decided that she'd done enough wallowing in her own depressive thoughts. As soon as she returned to the manor she would make it up to Harry. To be so disconnected from him hurt more than it did to love him.

She gazed out at the late afternoon sun and how it bathed Manhattan in a beautiful, fiery glow. Leaning down to grab a stone for one final skim, her hand curled around something strange, something scratchy and rectangular…

Hayley glanced down to see a zippo lighter in her left hand. Instinctively, her thumb rubbed over its surface, noticing that someone had coated over the gold, chrome metal with green paint. It was chipped and worn, probably battered by the rise and fall of the tide. She flicked open the cap and was pleasantly surprised to see a small flame burning brightly. It was so beautiful…

"Miss Carmichael?"

"Shit!" Hayley hissed as Kraven's low voice made her jump, causing her thumb to be burnt by the lighter. "You know you can call me Hayley, right? Or that lamb thing."

"It is time to return to Mr Osborn," Kraven said gently, turning to leave the rocky shore.

"Where did Wilson Fisk go?" she asked, choosing to not follow the hunter. She was too busy staring at the intriguing lighter she had found.

Kraven observed the redhead's strange behaviour, once again coming to the conclusion that she wasn't as innocent a lamb as he had previously thought.

"He had an appointment elsewhere. And before you ask, no, I cannot share what we spoke of."

"Thought so," Hayley replied with a shrug, flicking open and closed the lighter cap repeatedly. "Harry and I have been fighting a lot."

"Yes. I am aware."

"I think it's because he wants to bring out this other side of me, a side that I've tried to supress for years. I'm scared to go that place again. I-I-I did something terrible…" the redhead whispered shakily, her eyes tearing from the memory. "I can't loose control again. I-I can't be the person he wants me to be…I just can't do it!"

"We must know all ourselves, even the bad, to achieve control of our destiny. One cannot know themselves, their place in this world, if they keep a part of them secret," Kraven contemplated, motioning for the little lamb to follow him.

_So that's why Harry and the Goblin are merging together, _Hayley understood.

She pocketed the lighter and walked away from the shore with the philosophical hunter. "So, what do you suggest?"

"I suggest you no longer live your life as a lie," the hunter urged. "Stop fighting…and give in."

* * *

She had fully expected Harry to be home, sitting all smug with a grin like the Cheshire cat, ready to go into round three of their argument. However, she found the apartment silent and dark with all the curtains drawn. It was spooky with nothing but the dusk sun and streetlight glare coating the room and furniture in a blue film of window silhouettes.

Was the Goblin home? A ghoul or spectre would not be out of place in a setting such as this, and that scared Hayley. There were many haunts and rooms for Harry to be lurking in, because in the darkness was where he flourished, where he was at home with his inner self. Whereas she clung to the light, no matter how much the darkness tried to pull her in…there was always the light.

_One flickering flame of light, _she thought. _You will always be longing for me to begin spiralling downward…._

Flipping the light switch, Hayley breathed easy now that every dark and scary crevice was filled with wonderful light. The illumination gave her just a tad more confidence to enter the apartment with her head held high, though she did try to keep her footsteps as quiet as the marble floor would allow. Her fingers moved by her side, flicking up and down the cap of her newly discovered lighter. She could feel the heat of the small flame tumbling across her fingertips, before abruptly shutting it with a frown – hadn't Harry burnt the fingerprints from Becca and Cheryl? It was an ingenious measure, though she would never tell him that.

A small, ghost of a smile blossomed on her face at the sight of, or rather lack of, bottles and rubbish. The whole place, including Harry's sofa of squalid solitude, had been cleaned.

Was this his way of apologising?

In her glee, she almost missed a white box with a note on the polished and newly cleared coffee table.

"Really, Harry? _More_ jewellery?" Hayley muttered with an accompanying eye roll.

As she rounded the sofas for closer inspection, she could see that the box was not leather or that of an expensive brand. It was just a simple, white, battered, shallow cardboard box. Hayley's brow furrowed as she bent down to retrieve the note with Harry's familiar scrawl on it;

_Enjoy…_

_G._

"First a present from Harry, _now _one from the Goblin," she said sarcastically, laughing at how hilarious and mysterious he was.

Her smile dropped as soon as the gift was unwrapped, for inside the grubby box was a slice of pie with a flurry of whipped cream.

Pumpkin pie.

"That smug bastard."

* * *

A cell phone vibrated noisily on a wooden bureau, prompting an older woman with a sleek, jet-black bob, to stop typing on her expensive laptop. She peered down at the number flashing on the screen as she picked up her ringing cell. The caller was not one she recognised, but since this was her work phone, she decided to answer the call anyway. Though the late hour did perturb her slightly.

Many of her clients knew to only contact her during specific hours unless it was an emergency.

An unfamiliar voice came through the receiver.

"Hello?" she answered curtly. "Yes, this is she."

When they spoke again to introduce themselves, she was able to put a face to the voice.

"Oh, how wonderful to speak to you again. Of course I remember you from the trial, yes," the woman answered professionally, quickly grabbing a sticky note block and jotted down what the caller was saying.

The voice spoke again with a hint of urgency and panic.

"I am aware of your _unique_ situation, yes," the forty-five year old smiled arrogantly, her ruby red lips appearing almost triumphant in nature. The colour vibrant matched her long nails, which tapped interestedly on the pen in her hand.

She paused to listen to the caller's request.

"A session?" the woman's smirk widened. "Of course, I am sure I can pencil you in."

The woman scribbled down a few notes and specifics as the caller continued to speak.

"Don't worry about the time, you may call me on this line whenever you wish."

She listened closely to the caller's final words, trying to detect emotional hints in their voice.

"Wonderful to speak to you again. Yes, next week should be fine. I look forward to seeing you. Yes, you too. Goodbye now. Bye."

Grinning at her now silent phone, the woman pushed her tortoise shell glasses up the bridge of her nose, before writing down the caller's phone number whilst also adding it to her list of contacts. She had been waiting a very long time for that phone call. To know that she was right, that there_ were_ issues, that she had predicted this outcome was extremely satisfying.

Doctor Emily Baker leaned back in her expensive leather chair, viewing the name for the new contact on her phone screen. Truthfully, she hadn't anticipated being contacted directly and not through a third party, such as Dave Manners. However, she couldn't complain, in fact, you could say that she was quite looking forward to a potential new session next week.

Emily Baker liked nothing more than working with high profile clients. And there was no one more high profile than the couple of the moment. Oh yes, she had been waiting for this phone call indeed.

* * *

**You all should see me when I watch TASM2 – when Harry speaks to Felicia I'm just like, "Fuck you Felicia, Harry loves Hayley!" …yes, I am loosing my mind! Still love Fe though - she's growing on me!**

**Also, when Kraven speaks about Spider-Man, he is referencing events in the video game canon, for anyone who has played it or would like to know :)**

**To all my readers, new and old – I value each one of you and I hope I continue to deliver an exciting story for you all. As always, thoughts and comments are welcomed. MUCH LOVE XXX **

**P.S. For the record, I don't hate all medical professionals – I've just had more bad experiences that outweigh the good, but I still respect everything they do! **


	29. Chapter 29

**Featured song**: _The World Calling – _There For Tomorrow / _Heavy Heart – _Gabrielle Aplin

* * *

**I do not own Spider-Man, The Amazing Spider-Man 2 movie and additional deleted scenes, video game or anything related to the Marvel franchise! **

**Reminder: I have never studied psychiatry or any behavioural therapy studies. I do research and use my personal experiences for certain scenes so I hope they read well. **

**(Please note that I have been very ill over the past few months, with numerous hospital visits, so apologies my loves I know you've been waiting patiently.)**

* * *

Hayley shifted about awkwardly on the grey couch looking anywhere but at the woman seated directly in front of her. It had been a long time since she had been in the hot seat like this and the redhead did not like it one bit. Beside her was Harry who looked as equally uncomfortable, body rigid with a standoffish air similar to her own. It was a miracle that they were in the same room let alone sitting next to one another.

The doorbell had rung through the silent manor like that of church bell, piercing and out of place for the early hour. Before she even knew what was happening, Harry had entered her room, grabbed her arm, and grumbled something that sounded like "Uples eraphy." He had then hastily led her out into the living area, her body too tired to resist and argue about his rough handedness yet again. So Hayley had let him pull her like a doll, and that was how she had ended up in couple's therapy this drizzly autumn morning.

The air was thick with an emotion, a feeling that she could not pinpoint. All she knew was that it made her want to run for the hills.

Harry coughed awkwardly breaking the silence, and she glanced over to him, getting a proper look for the first time in days. His neck was extremely red with irritation whilst the green patches that mottled his skin were as strong and prominent as ever. Those usually sharp, icy blue eyes were now tired with dark bags beneath them. The everyday neat, billionaire ensemble was replaced with an outfit that appeared like he had tried to make an effort for this meeting but failed half way through. A black, silk tie hung slack around his neck like a rejected noose and his dress shirt rumpled and unbuttoned. Even in his less than polished state at least he was semi presentable. Hayley however, was the personification of scruffy in her comfy jeans and ratty t-shirt. If she had known about this appointment ahead of time then her clothes would have been vastly different. It was embarrassing to sit across from another psychiatrist appearing every bit her young age and not an equal.

There was another cough from the young billionaire as he shakily brought the mug that was cradled in his hands up to his lips. Just because the carefully masked liquid was no longer in its original bottle, it didn't mean that she could not smell the distinct strong aroma of Bourbon. It was sadly pathetic how far and quickly Harry had fallen from sanity, and the redhead began to feel guilty at her choice of ignoring him for so long.

_Why have I let this happen to him?_

"As much as I enjoy sitting in silence, I am getting paid by the hour," spoke Emily Baker at last, her tongue clicking at the end of the sentence like she was chastising naughty children. "Shall we begin the session?" she asked, pointedly staring at the Osborn boy.

Hayley also stared expectantly at the man beside her, before rolling her eyes when he took yet another sip of alcohol. "Um, can I ask why you are here, Doctor Baker?" she questioned honestly.

The older psychiatrist shifted her gaze to the redhead, her eyebrow quirking curiously, "Am I correct in assuming that you are not aware of the purpose of this meeting?"

"I was not aware there even was a meeting until ten minutes ago."

"Mr Osborn, would you like to explain why you called for my services?" the psychiatrist glowered at the young man.

Harry drained the remainder of his alcohol, needing the liquid courage. "Erm, we are in couples therapy, Hayley," he muttered pompously, brushing the limp hair from his eyes, "I think that is rather obvious."

"Couples therapy? You are joking, right?"

"No Hayley, I am not joking," Harry confirmed with a dejected sigh, placing his empty mug on the coffee table before them.

"You are such a hypocrite Harry Osborn! You're happy to talk and participate in _her_ therapy sessions but not my own?"

"How else are we going to have a decent conversation?" he snapped back.

"_How_ are we meant to discuss our many, many issues when…" Hayley stopped and swallowed before inching closer to the source of her animosity, hissing into his ear, "when _she_ doesn't know about certain _things."_

"You needn't worry Miss Carmichael," Baker interjected, noting the girl's desire to protect Mr Osborn's secrets regardless of their current relationship problems. "I have signed a binding contract not to discuss or reveal anything incriminating that may come up in these sessions. Besides, I would prefer not to be on the Goblin's hit list, so all your secrets are safe with me."

Hayley reeled at the psychiatrist referring to Harry's alter ego like he was present in the room, because, of course, he was indeed. "How much does she know?"

"Everything," he confessed putting his face in his hands – it was way too early for this type of drama. His head was already pounding and the alcohol hadn't offered the little respite he hoped it would.

"Everything?" she enquired suspiciously, for there was always a catch with the crafty Goblin. "Are you sure? Does she know about the OsCorp box that is stashed under your bed?"

"Do we _really_ have to discuss _that _now?"

"When else are we going to have a _decent conversation_ about it?" the redhead retorted using Harry's own words against him. She knew this would most likely antagonise him further but what choice did she have other than to pick apart his actions with a fine-toothed comb.

Nothing was ever what it seemed, a factor she had learnt from experience.

"This, this is couples therapy, Hayley," Harry reasoned despairingly, his thumbs rubbing at his temples soothingly," not a tell-all campfire story about our personal secrets."

"Fine. Are there any areas that we are not allowed to discuss?"

Almost predictably, Harry's hand darted into his jeans pocket. He plucked free a crumpled, folded piece of paper, the expensive kind that had a letterhead and printed signature. When he placed it in her expectant hand, a wide smirk decorated his face. The smug bastard's eyes twinkled green as she opened the paper. It revealed a neatly written list of non-negotiable topics that they weren't to discuss in therapy.

_God, I hate it when I'm right, _Hayley thought sourly, her eyes glowering upon seeing Harry's own drink in her silent and broody demeanour.

The list read as follows:

_You will NOT discuss these topics:_

_My time and our relationship inside of Ravencroft _

_Your personal connections with Ravencroft and its staff _

_My involvement in the deaths of your co-workers, Kinsey, and Kuzmin _

_You will keep their deaths and their effect on you as minimal as possible_

_Do not mention the box under OUR bed_

_Fiers, Kraven, and Sytsevich are not be mentioned_

_We may discuss Peter Parker and Spider-Man IF necessary but do NOT reveal his identity_

_Pumpkins_

Hayley reread the list five times before she really took in the second to last line; did Harry actually want to protect Peter? It was an interesting development that caused the redhead to smile involuntarily. She folded up paper before handing it back to Harry, giving him in small nod to show that she understood his terms. Their fingers touched and eyes met. The moment was a millisecond but enough for them both to feel those long dormant butterflies start to flutter in their stomachs once more.

_Maybe couples therapy was a good thing?_ Hayley pondered.

"So, shall we begin?" a very impatient Emily Baker asked, her presence almost forgotten, "Mr Osborn, how about you start by expressing some concerns or feelings you have about the current state of your relationship with Miss Carmichael."

Hayley inwardly cursed the older psychiatrist. Of course she would empower him further by presenting him as the victim who reached out for help. It was her only angle at this point to force a dysfunctional dialogue between the two of them. How else would the psychiatrist assess and discover their various issues? Especially since this was not a textbook, black and white case. There were many, many, _many_ grey areas to their relationship. The Green Goblin and his fiery girlfriend had countless delectable secrets. Any psychiatrist would jump at the chance to take on such a high profile and vastly unusual case. Who wouldn't be intrigued by its uniqueness? Anyway, wasn't that the very reason why Hayley herself had agreed upon treating the Goblin? She had readily accepted the position blind to all the risks and dangers his treatment at Ravencroft could entail.

"She ignores me and is completely unappreciative of everything I do for her, everything I give her – "

"That is not true and you know – "

"Miss Carmichael," Baker interrupted sternly, "I think you of all people would know not to stop a patient mid sentence. Please, Mr Osborn, continue."

Closing her eyes and mentally counting to ten, Hayley tried to remain claim, all the while bitterly thinking ill of Baker: _That's right, make me appear as unprofessional as possible so he will trust your guidance and advice over mine, lecherous bitch. _

"I have given her so much. Given her a job, a place to live, a bed to sleep in, everything within my power and money to give her she can have, but now I'm starting to think she doesn't care about me at all," Harry revealed, his voice distant and heavy, though she couldn't tell if that as from emotion or the alcohol.

"I don't want your money Harry. You're trying to buy off my love, fill the gaps in your insecurities by gift giving. All I ever wanted was you. Not your money."

There was a small pause whilst the couple stared at each other indignantly, neither one wanting to accept what the other was saying.

"Might I remind you Miss Carmichael that _you _are the patient in this instance. So, please leave all the psychoanalysis to me," Baker instructed irritably with a not so kind smile. "Have you considered that the only way Mr Osborn can currently express his love _is _to buy you gifts? That maybe he does this because he knows no other way?"

"Yes, but – "

"And that by rejecting his presents, you are in fact rejecting his love?"

"I do not reject him!"

"_Could have fooled me, Ginge."_

"I haven't!" Hayley beseeched them both despairingly, trying to rake her brain for any small thing that could have been misinterpreted as an action of rejection. Small tears started to form in her eyes as she questioned herself quietly, "I haven't…have I?"

"Mr Osborn, are you able to recall a particular instance where you felt Miss Carmichael spurned your love?" the psychiatrist asked, her critical mind greedily anticipating his answer. "Please explain how you felt in that moment"

It was as if she were a witch on trial at Salem. Whichever evidence Hayley gave, whatever opinion or feeling she spoke of, it was all being thrown back in her face.

"Do you have any idea the lengths it took to reacquire that emerald necklace?"

"Yes, you kill – "

Harry patted his pocket where the list containing strictly confidential topics now rested. The action effectively silenced her retort of Kuzmin's death. Instead, the Goblin continued, "_It required a lot of time and skill to locate the necklace you so carelessly lost – " _

"It was stolen not lost – "

"_The elation I felt once I plucked it from the dirty place it had appeared in, was nothing short of marvellous and miraculous. Instead of thanking me, you argued relentlessly over how I got them back. No appreciation was uttered, only hostility. If I remember correctly you barely had them on for five minutes. Oh yes, and throwing a pill bottle at me was how that conversation ended. Utterly ungrateful Ginge." _

The redhead could feel rage boiling inside of her as the Goblin spun out lie after lie after lie. All she could do was listen and seethe quietly. Hayley wanted nothing more than to explode and argue back, add fuel to the ever-growing fire. The increasing in tension was causing them to grow further and further apart as each day passed, and all she could do was stay silent. Besides, if Doctor Baker were the top psychiatrist she claimed to be, then surely she would see through his pointless lies? Anyone who watched the news recently would be aware that the necklace had been stolen.

All his words continued to lick deceitfully at her ears; their false meaning ignored until his voice suddenly lost its hardness.

"I give you everything that I am, everything that I have, but it is never enough. Never." His hands shifted about animatedly, expressing not only his anger but also his intense pain and insecurities. "It's as if she's in love with someone else. I'm just some insignificant fly, unworthy of her attention. How can I compete when she's caught in another man's web?"

The spider symbolism was not lost on her, and Hayley could do nothing more than to gape astounded at his confession, "Is…is that really what you think? What you really feel?"

"Yes!" Harry replied exasperatedly as if it was the most obvious conclusion in the world. "Otherwise we wouldn't be having this conversation."

The psychiatrist looked at the bickering pair. A spark of intrigue was evident in her eyes as the secrets and emotions tumbled out of their mouths. "Miss Carmichael, your thoughts?" she questioned placidly, all hint of excitement void from her voice and composed demeanour.

Hayley was beginning to feel ashamed of herself and her actions. Taking his ill hand in hers, she implored him, "I had no idea that's how you felt. I'm so sorry. You're not a fly. If anything…I'm the fly. I told you I would never leave you, and I _truly _meant that. I still mean it." She rubbed her fingers comfortingly across his hand even though it was evident that her touch irritated him. "I have never left your web…I wouldn't know how…I couldn't."

Harry's hand was limp in her hold. He started to release himself from it before changing his mind and crushing her delicate fingers, "_Without you, Ginge, without you I have no purpose…I have nothing," _he growled quietly_. _His green eyes locked onto hers, almost daring her to alert the psychiatrist of the discomfort he was causing.

Surprisingly the redhead kept her expression blank even though the Goblin was a squeeze away from breaking more of her fingers. The only evidence that she was in excruciating pain was the slight clench in her jaw and narrowing of her eyes.

The Goblin glanced over to Doctor Baker, pleased to find her attention on the notebook in her lap. Pulling Hayley towards him, he hissed menacingly in her ear, "_Without me, you, you are nothing! Nothing! I made you, Ginge, don't you forget that."_

His words stung and she accepted them. Not because they were threatening, but because they were true. Every syllable, every vowel, every consonant, every single word sliced into her heart like razorblades.

"All I want is for you to notice me, to love me again. Without you, Hayley, I am nothing," Harry repeatedly murmured before pressing his lips chastely on her cheek. Then he shifted away, releasing her hand just in time for the psychiatrist to glance up from her scribbling, missing their little moment completely.

"Our time is up, but I think we have made good progress today," Doctor Baker proclaimed confidently. "Between now and our next session I would like you both to make special time for each other, whether it be a date or another type of engagement. Same time next week Mr Osborn?" When he nodded in response, she gathered her belongings and sauntered over to the exit, "I shall see myself out."

* * *

That night marked a change for the better in their relationship. Although she had started the night off in the adjoining room, she had ended up asleep at Harry's side.

Hayley's eyes flew open, her already uncomfortable slumber disturbed by painful howling. The familiar noise filled the apartment like it had done many, many times previously, its harrowing nature ringing in her ears. The girl's resolve was in pieces after their therapy session and the strength she once had to ignore Harry's nightly terrors had completely dissolved. Every time she replayed his words, another crack shattered her heart. He was an insecure, confused, lost boy who needed her. Because that was what he had always proclaimed without any doubt…the fact that he needed her.

The screaming was getting louder and more soul destroying to listen to. This only furthered the notion that he did indeed need her in many different ways. As a friend, a lover, a confidant, and a caregiver, though he would never admit it. His pained night terror, this one sounding far worse than any she had heard before, was enough for Hayley to forget all his transgressions. In an instant she overlooked that even though he was indeed a lost boy, he was also a villainous man.

Jumping to her feet she quickly padded from her room through the bathroom and into their shared bedroom. Like usual, Harry was thrashing about in bed, curling and unfurling fitfully in the fetal position. Stiff and clenched fingers were digging into his temples and forehead in agony. His actions reminded her of the security footage she had once watched of Harry administering the spider venom into his arm at OsCorp. The way his body shook violently was reminiscent of his initial Goblin transformation, the Retroviral Hypodysplasia symptoms accelerated. Hayley often pondered that maybe the trauma and memory of his metamorphosis was the root of his night terrors. Even though they frightened her at times, she was done standing idol. She was still angry but being a spectator to his pain was no longer acceptable.

"Baby steps, Hayley," she whispered to herself as she crawled onto the bed to kneel beside him.

The terror continued despite her sudden presence, though she was certain that Harry was aware of her. Their eyes had locked for only a few seconds but it was enough. Carefully, Hayley inched closer to him until they were mere centimetres from touching. Her cautious hand reached for his flexed, shaking one, fully prepared for him to slap her away like he had done many times previously. But instead he surprised her by accepting her touch, his body almost instantly stilled and settled. All that was left was jittering muscle spasms and his constant trembling hands.

Hayley shifted her position so that their bodies lay parallel, eyes transfixed on the one another. Words were not necessary because they both understood that regardless of the many issues in their dysfunctional relationship, they needed each other in this moment. They fell into a peaceful sleep with the redhead stroking Harry's hair soothingly.

A little while later, when the clock struck midnight, a pair of mischievous, green eyes gleamed in the darkness. The arms of the Goblin tightened their grip on Hayley's tiny waist, his body some how having spooned hers during the hours after she had joined him. Her soft, sleepy sighs were like music to his ears. So much so, that he felt compelled to utter his own silly tune.

"_Incy Wincy Spider climbed up the clock tower spire, down came the Goblin and wiped his girlfriend out. Out came the fire sparked from the redhead's pain, and Incy Wincy Peter never walked again…"_ he sang quietly, all the while grinning from ear to ear

* * *

The clear, starry sky was visible though the giant crater he had created in the familiar building's ceiling. And although the night air was cool, the heat of a growing, monstrous fire caused the temperature to soar to burning heights.

Around him lay smashed bricks and dusty smoke, as well as discarded fragments of orange, exploded pumpkin bombs contributing to the destruction littered area. Chaos ensued behind where he floated, with Kraven and the Rhino engaged in combat; however, his focus was on the one man in front of him

"_It should really come as no surprise," _the Green Goblin chuckled atop his hovering glider, "_as soon as you crossed me, you were destined to die by my hand."_

He had a burly, bald man pinned against a stark, white wall. Blood covered the man's face and was barely recognisable from all the swelling. Even a few front teeth were missing having been knocked out during the struggle. The battle scar across his lip now hung open, the flesh torn and bleeding. His head was split with bruises covering his body, many resembling that of boot footprints. Tattoos that were once noticeable blended in with the purple bruising.

The spikes of the Goblin's glider were millimetres from his victim's jugular. One wrong move from either of them and the man would be dead. Not that it mattered much to the Goblin because death was imminent.

"Rich brat! When Hayley finds ou' 'bout what you 'ave done, she'll – "

The Goblin cackled hysterically, momentarily interrupting the man's empty threat.

"She'll leave ya!" he continued bravely.

"_Oh, I highly doubt that," _the Goblin grinned manically, _"she barely batted an eyelid when I killed those nurses and that criminal, so she won't miss you." _His eyes gleamed and widened in glee at the man's nervous swallowing. _"You see, Ginge isn't entirely innocent as she would have you believe! This,"_ he proclaimed, raising his armoured arms upwards, "_this is all for her."_

"You 're insane!"

"_Insane?"_ he pondered letting the word roll on his tongue. _"Insane is such a strong word. I prefer devilishly wicked."_

"Goblin," came the authoritative voice of Kraven the hunter, "time to end this."

"_Aw," _the Goblin pouted, glancing over his shoulder at his mentor, "_but it's so much fun! We are having fun, right?" _His victim did not answer but he barely cared enough to torture him further._ "Any sign of Spider-Man?"_

A monstrous crash resonated behind them making Kraven roll his eyes despairingly, _"_Not yet. I fear Rhino's destruction shall quickly alert the spider to our location."

The Goblin nodded in agreement, understanding the man's urgency to have the job completed. "_Are the other's dead? Their bodies in place?"_

"Of course."

"_And the pumpkins?"_

"All is as you wish Goblin."

"_Good," _he grinned, before turning back to his victim._ "How does it feel knowing that Spider-Man cannot save you? That no one cares if you live or die? I care. I care that you die. You and your buddies may have had your fun with me, but now it's my turn."_

Sirens wailed in the distance alerting the three criminals that New York's finest cops were rapidly drawing closer. Their presence also meant the possibility of Spider-Man showing his masked face.

"We must leave. A true hunter's identity must be kept hidden from those who wish to end the hunt."

The Goblin nodded and crouched lower on his glider, his face level with his victim'. "You all have to die," explained Harry, his change of voice causing confusion to flash on the man's terrified face. "When you're all dead, then she'll have no one else. No one. Only me."

"Ya can't force 'er to love you," the man spat, droplets of blood mixed with saliva dribbled down his chin. "She will 'ever love a monster like you."

"I don't need to force her…_because she already does love me," _finished the Goblin, purring victoriously_._

Pressing a button on the glider controls on his right arm, the thrusters engaged with a roar. The last thing Colin saw before his head fell cleanly from his body was the evil, manic grin of a green madman.

* * *

Hayley was feeling anxious as she yet again sat uncomfortably beside Harry in their second therapy session.

This morning's news had reported of a fire breaking out in Ravencroft. Several prison guards and orderlies had died in the tragic incident, with the police treating the accident as suspicious. The institute's security footage had gone missing, hinting that the crime had possibly been a premeditated, inside job. Either that or an external perpetrator had knowledge of the facility and its layout. There was also much suspicion and speculation about the ten staff member's cause of death. Surely a small, localised fire could not have taken so many lives?

There was no doubt in her mind that the calm and collected man sitting on the couch with her was guilty. Although, he most likely had help since the job was obviously complex and not the work of an individual. This led Hayley to the assumption that Kraven was mostly likely involved. Come to think of it, she had a vague memory of Harry taking a shower around three in the morning. The sound of water had woken her, along with a strange smell that reminded her of a bonfire…

"How was this past week been for you both," Doctor Baker asked, breaking Hayley from her thoughts. When neither of her patients replied, the psychiatrist pressed on, "Did you complete the homework I set you?"

The redhead blanched. _Damn, forgot about the homework, _she thought miserably, _it's like being back at school!_

Harry seemed too busy with his suspicious mug of coffee so Hayley piped up reluctantly, "Does sleeping in the same bed count?"

The psychiatrist appraised the girl over her glasses, "It's not exactly what I had in mind but that is progress at least. I would have preferred you both to spend time together in a setting where you are awake. And, where you could talk. A date would – "

"We have a date planned for next week."

Hayley glanced over to Harry in surprise, her reaction almost foiling the validity of his statement. Not that she could or would ever take him seriously when he was tipsy. As it was, he had finished his mug of disguised alcohol and was now twirling an OsCorp pen between his fingers distractedly. The liquor had clearly taken effect since his posture and attitude was somewhat relaxed in comparison to the usual tension that filled his body as of late. Harry even had a hint of a crafty smile on his face!

"Mr Osborn, would you care to elaborate?"

"The Osborn and Fisk foundation is hosting a Halloween ball next week to raise money for the charity," he replied plainly, reaching out to hold the redhead's hand with grin. "Hayley and I will be attending together of course. Right, doll?"

It only took a beat for her to catch onto his game – he didn't want to incur Doctor Baker's wrath either. Whether this proposed date was a blatant lie or entirely truthful remained to be seen.

"Right," Hayley agreed with a winning smile to match his own, glancing over at the billionaire lovingly to seal the deal.

Although she was acting, her heart had started to thump as soon as Harry's fingers entwined with hers. She realised that he was careful in his actions and not overly possessive for a change. However, as soon the psychiatrist looked down at her notebook, he removed his hand from hers.

Emily Baker was not convinced with their little charade, so she tried a different tactic. "Mr Osborn, I'd like to remind you that the consumption of alcohol during these sessions is prohibited," she chimed in with a satisfied smile when Harry's body stiffened, the look of guilt on his face as potent as the liquor. "Is there any reason why you feel the need to be intoxicated?"

"It's a coping mechanism," Hayley interjected bluntly. "There isn't a day that goes by where he doesn't have a drink. I think he's dependant on it." Though it may have appeared to an outsider that her comments were cruel and unnecessary, she was genuinely concerned about his unhealthy habit.

Obviously Harry couldn't detect her caring undertones. "Let's discuss your coping vices shall we?" he retorted hotly. "What about all the medication you _stole _from Ravencroft, huh? I think you should tell the Doctor how you abuse prescription drugs!"

"Harry, please, that's enough!" Hayley hissed hurriedly, suddenly feeling very vulnerable – if he didn't shut up she could loose her medical license. "Can we _not _bring that up – "

"Is this true Miss Carmichael?"

"No…I mean, I _did_ take medication assigned from my consultant, but I don't take them anymore." She hoped and prayed that she had saved a situation that could destroy her career. "You," Hayley glared back at the source of her anger, "took them away from me, remember?"

Baker's eyes narrowed crossly at Harry, "Stopping one's medication abruptly can cause issues, Mr Osborn, and it is not something I would recommend. Have you been experiencing any withdrawal symptoms Hayley? Any nausea? Headaches, malaise, dream and sleep disturbances? What about restlessness, irritability – "

"That's the word to describe her! Irritable!"

Tears filled her eyes as the redhead had finally had enough of the constant badgering and attacks on her person that seemed to be the only thing she got from attending the sessions. "I'm sorry that I'm not perfect, Harry! You always said that you don't do complicated, but look at me! I'm as complicated as they get! Why are you even with me? You're clearly not happy anymore. Leave me if that's what you want, because that's what it sounds like!"

Harry stopped, the numb cloud provided by the alcohol disappearing with every single tear she shed. "Hayley," he said softly, trying to take her hand but she quickly shifted away from him, "you don't have to be perfect. I really do lov…look, I get that because you were burnt by your pyromaniac parents – "

"Don't you _dare_ say that! You know _nothing _of my family! Of what happened to me!"

"Then, why don't you share? Seems only fair that I should know more about my pyromaniac girlfriend – "

"Shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!" Hayley screamed, hands clasped protectively over her ears. "I am leaving. I can't deal with this anymore." Getting to her feet she raced from the room, leaving the Manor entirely in her upset.

Emily Baker shook her head in despair and began taking notes describing the girl's unstable outburst.

"_Well Doc,"_ the Goblin said full of curiosity, "_wasn't that little explosion rather telling?" _

* * *

Hayley hated their couples counselling with a burning passion. The worst aspect of it was that she could tell Doctor Baker enjoyed the role reversal of power. However, she continued to go to them regardless because she could tell they were helping Harry.

Their relationship was no longer in tatters because now he had a safe place to identify, discuss, and address his issues instead of letting the anger boil up inside. Though it didn't stop the sessions beginning and ending with arguments.

Harry's Retroviral Hypodysplasia had calmed down significantly, his green hue no longer prominent and over powering. Other than the sore on his neck, all his other wounds were either healed or under control, thanks to the diligent care of Doctor Aldington. Even Hayley had to admit that the doctor was doing a much better job taking of Harry than she ever had. She tried not to let that fact get to her, telling herself that the doctor had years of previous experience with the disease since he had treated Norman Osborn. However, the feelings of self-loathing and failure continued to edge their way into Hayley's mind.

Doctor Aldington had cleared Harry to return to work now that his goblin-like appearance had subsided. That meant they now had to suffer the long morning car journey through the Manhattan traffic. It was the only time they were in close contact with one another, except for therapy and the occasional nights Hayley slept beside him. Their journey consisted of either total, icy silence or the soundtrack of Harry aggressively shouting down his cell phone. These stressful situations only heightened the redhead's anxiety.

Shifting about nervously in the crowed elevator, Hayley tried to remain calm as she ascended. It took awhile to get to the top of the elevator shaft due to various OsCorp employees milling in and out, but by the time she reached its end, she was alone. Only Harry's office graced the top floor. It had been some time since she had been up there, the last being when the billionaire had argued with and tried to kill Donald Menken. She actually felt quite awkward about her visit because she was seeking out Felicia, not Harry.

"Hey Fe," she called out softly as she tentatively entered the luxurious office, choosing to stay standing by the glass doors.

She was surprised to find her friend also standing by the room's entrance, her back against the marbled wall, usual clipboard in hand. Hayley noted that there was a lot of tension in the brunette's body and that her hair less perfected and polished. There came a loud, repetitive, thumping noise, which caused Felicia to twitch in response, though she sighed deeply with irritation like she was used to what was happening. It was then that Hayley observed the rest of the office.

Harry, who was smartly dressed, was near his glass desk, throwing a black, bouncy ball against the thick, glass, window like walls. The little performance was fuelled with aggression and stress. The ball whacked its intended target with such ferocity but also with an unexpected air of grace. His overarm technique was flawless, the ball returning to his hand every time. The movements of his arm and hand were extremely fluid considering how much the Retroviral Hypodysplasia caused them to shake. Hayley was momentarily caught off guard at the way his strong body exuded power and control over such a silly game. It stirred something deep inside her, and her mind couldn't help but recall the way his wanting hands gripped her body when he roared with ecstasy…

"Oh, hey Hayley," Felicia replied offhandedly, barely glancing at the redhead as she kept her eyes fixed on her clipboard and Filofax. Every so often her brown eyes took a quick peek at her boss, his recent change in behaviour had her deeply worried.

Hayley ignored the brunette's unenthusiastic greeting, knowing that she probably had a million things on her mind. "Did Karen text you about the OsCorp Halloween ball? It's cool that us girls should dress as a group since Manners is bringing her, but I'm not really comfortable with – "

SMASH!

"Fuck!" Harry yelled in frustration as a particularly violent throw caused the rubber ball to nick a vase on his desk. The object fell to the ground in a thousand pieces, the ball rolling away in insolence. He kicked the broken shards before stalking away, "ARGH! Hold my calls, Felicia! NO one disturbs me!"

The two women flinched at his venomous order and watched him stalk away to the balcony area.

Harry's OsCorp office was so elaborate what with its mini bar, sofas, interactive desk, and marble decorative scheme, that Hayley always discovered something new every time she dropped by. It was only recently that she had realised there even was a balcony. It was discreetly positioned in the far left corner away from the communal area. There was yet another glass door, which blended in with the clear, glass walls, hence why Hayley had never noticed it before. Through the door was a small, steel balcony that was in keeping with the hexagonal outer architecture. The platform consisted of five hexagons, slotted together like honeycomb, with a similar structure making up the railing. Each hexagon was filled with thick, robust steel and glass to prevent any accidents. The balcony was safe, but Hayley had yet to venture out onto it.

"That's the second vase," Felicia commented with a sigh. Her boss did seem to insist on throwing that ball around the office whenever he was stressed.

"I gather he's in a bad mood?"

"When is he ever not," replied the brunette with a sad smile. She moved forward to collect the scattered pieces of the broken vase, which was worth more than her apartment. "He had a meeting with Manners this morning, and he's been in a fouler mood since."

"What was it about?" Hayley followed suit and helped her friend to gather the pieces of china. It was clear that Harry's habit of smashing objects was not restricted exclusively to the Osborn Manor.

"I cannot be certain, but…I overheard them discussing Fisk and the charity ball," Felicia whispered, her brown, doe eyes shifting from Harry on the balcony, to the vase, and the redhead.

"Yeah, about our costume choice for the ball – "

"FUCK!" exclaimed Harry, smacked his hand on the balcony rail, causing both girls to jump at the sudden noise. He then proceeded to run his trembling hands over his face and through his hair agitatedly.

The two women shared a concerned glance.

"Maybe you should go talk to him Hayley."

"I, er, I don't think…I mean, we aren't really speaking at – "

"I know he wants you too," Felicia encouraged gently. "Besides, I'm pretty capable of cleaning this mess up myself. I've had a lot of practise."

Hayley sighed, "So have I."

Reluctantly getting to her feet, she slowly left the safety of her friend and stumbled over to the dangers lurking on the balcony. The handle of the glass doors was cool in her hands, and it took a few attempts on her part to pull it open and step outside. Harry stood stock still, glaring at the metropolitan world below. His whole body was held with rage and agitation, and his fingers rapped on the metal railing intensely. Even in his perturbed state, the power that oozed from him was like that of Zeus passing judgement on mortals from atop Mount Olympus – truly terrifying.

"Topping yourself is not going to solve anything," the redhead commented darkly. She folded her arms, resting them and her chin on the silver rail before her, Harry a few paces on her right.

"What are you wittering about?" Harry snapped unkindly. He paused to rub his forehead before continuing, "I don't have time for your pointless commentary Hayley. You're only adding to my headache. What are you even doing up here?"

Hayley shrugged and replied plainly, "It's my lunch break so I came to see Felicia."

"Ah, still avoiding me I see," Harry smiled gloomily, disappointment evident in his voice.

"Harry, we live under the same roof and work in the same building – "

"And yet we are still distant."

Glancing around to make sure no one was around, namely Felicia, Hayley hissed "You killed _more _people, remember?_"_

"_Oh, I do remember," _the Goblin chuckled, his previous forlorn face changing into that of immense satisfaction. A wicked grin appeared as he replayed in his mind the torture he had inflicted on the prison guard Colin. _"It was necessary!"_

"Necessary? Necessary! Eating is necessary, killing is not!"

Harry chuckled at the girl's fiery face, "Funny that the girl who barely eats thinks of food as a necessity."

"Says the man who wastes pumpkins for some sort of murder calling card."

"Have you even eaten today?" he asked unkindly, the question seemingly an antagonising dig rather than out of worry. Though deep down, Harry was very concerned for her health.

"Thanks for the pumpkin pie by the way," she commented icily, ignoring his question entirely, "I'm surprised you had enough to spare after carving so many."

"I'm betting you threw it away? Such a waste Hayley."

"Argh! Stop turning this on me! You are the one killing people! I have done nothing wrong! You have! I am not the bad guy here. I just don't understand – "

"_You may not understand now, but you will."_

"I very much doubt that."

Harry's cell phone started to buzz, and it didn't take long for him to begin shouting orders down the receiver at some poor employee. The wind whistled around them, carrying his barks and Hayley's ginger ponytail swirling around in the breeze. The Manhattan skyline was still beautiful to her regardless of her flying theatrics with Spider-Man, though it had lost the breath taking awe it once held. Its architecture differed from where she used to live in England but the overall feeling was the same; small and insignificant. Different country, same emotion. Except…that was wrong. There _were_ times when she didn't feel that way. Four people made her feel important; one was dead, one she was forbidden to see, one was in the other room fretting over a vase, and the other was Harry.

The redhead closed her eyes and felt the breeze drifting across her skin and through her hair. _From now on, I will try harder, I will make more of an effort, _she thought determinedly. _I made it this far, I'm on the balcony, so I should take a leap of faith…_

"Useless!"Harry snarled down the phone before ending the call. He shoved it back into the depths of his designer, charcoal trouser pockets, his fingers reaching for a little respite from the morning stress.

_You just have to be brave Hayley. One small act of kindness, of affection, will ease the tension…just…jump…_

A familiar smell whirled its way into her nostrils, the aroma jarring and cruel. Painful images flashed into her mind and before her eyes. She was back in that dark, cramped place, screams surrounding her, the cancerous stench trapping her in the past she tried so hard to escape from…

Opening her eyes, Hayley wildly spun towards Harry and grabbed the freshly lit cigarillo perched between his lips. She sneered in disgust as she cast it to the ground and stamped on it aggressively. Relief began to wash over her at seeing the end no longer burning bright. It was then that the redhead noticed her breathing was shallow and erratic, heart thumping violently.

_Crisis averted…crisis averted…_

She was about to give the young billionaire a piece of her mind when her blood ran cold. In his hand was a full pack of premium, imported cigarillos, each dormant one mocking her with the promising smell of burning nicotine. It only took a beat of a pause before she reached out for the offensive item.

"Hayley, what the f – "

The pack of cigarillos was out of his hand and flying over the railing to the streets below before he even knew what had happened. Harry stared at her in shock. Her face was paler than usual, eyes hollow and void of any real emotion. That was a look he had seen many times, though not as vivid as it was in this instant. However, it was her body, coiled tight like a spring, ready to strike like a caged animal, which really had him mystified. He was certain that her sudden pettiness ran far deeper than preventing him from smoking.

"Hayley," he said sternly with complete seriousness, "I am going to reach into my pocket, and lit my _last_ cigar – "

"No…no you are not!" the redhead shrieked hysterically, shaking her head from side to side.

Harry made his movements very slow, inching his hand back into his pocket, "Now, I'm going to look past the fact that you just threw away _imported_ Cubans. They cost more than you could make in a month!" There was a clench in his jaw, and his eye twitched as Harry tried to hold the Goblin's anger at bay. As he brought out his last fag, her green eyes watched it like a hawk. "If," he paused seriously, "if you take this from me, I will not be able to hold him back. Do you understand, Hayley?"

She nodded in response though she could barely comprehend what he actually said. All she could hear was the rapid beating of her heart, loud and erratic, insistent like a heavy metal drummer. Every single muscle in her body was shaking; it wasn't just Harry who was trying to hold something back. It was taking every ounce of herself to prevent any further reaction from her body. Sweat dotted her forehead and the phantom screams of a child were ringing in her ears.

Inch by inch she watched him bring the lighter closer and closer to his puckered lips.

_It'll be ok, it'll be ok, _Hayley repeated continuously. Her mind's voice was desperately trying to drown out the screaming that was steadily intensifying.

Second by second she held herself at bay as he brought the lighter upward, its destination ready and expectant. Her mouth dried with the anticipation of the cap opening, and her heart almost stopped as her worst fears started to come true before her very eyes.

Harry had planned on keeping his eyes focused solely on her but at the last minute he glanced down as he flipped open the cap, releasing the naked flame. And that's when it happened.

"STOP!"

In the blink of an eye the boiling flame before him was seemingly extinguished. In shock, the last cigarillo fell from his lips to the ground. His eyes widened in horror as Hayley's pale, delicate hand gripped the lighter, her palm being licked by the fire. Small curls of amber danced on the flesh between her fingers, the burning smell becoming stronger as the seconds ticked by.

"Hayley! Let go! You idiot, your hand!" Harry yelled urgently, but his pleas were met with silence.

The eyes of his girl were completely dead.

Forcefully he grabbed her wrist and yanked it away from the lighter before chucking it over the balcony. "Why did you do that? How did you…Hayley?" he asked, all initial anger morphing into distress.

As he carefully inspected the small burn wound on her palm, Hayley stood motionless. The screaming in her head had stopped as soon as she touched the flame, as soon as the cigarillo was no longer in danger of becoming ignited. Nothing around her seemed real, and even though it was a sunny day, everything to her was dark. The world had lost its vibrancy. It was as if a vignette had coated her vision, the darkness slowly creeping in. She barely registered that she was now sitting on one of the office sofas until her hand became cool and wet. Glancing down she saw her hand was submerged in a shallow, glass bowl of water and ice.

Felicia and Harry were talking to her, or at her, she wasn't really sure which, for the sound was muffled. The only thing she really heard was her name over and over again.

"Hayley!"

"It's ok Hay, bathing it in water will help…"

"_Ginge!"_

"Hayley, you idiot what…what…Hayley, how did you do that?"

"Hayley are you in pain? Can you say something Hayley?"

"Hayley!"

"I am ok," she managed to whisper in response, reality slowly returning to her.

"Don't ever do that again!' Harry reprimanded, still baffled at what had just transpired. He gently gripped the hand with the fingers he had so carelessly broken, and rubbed soothing circles across her knuckles. "You, you can't just do things like that! It's dangerous!"

"Are you in any pain?" Felicia contributed. "I can get you some painkillers – "

"No! No medication," the young billionaire cut in sharply, his words law.

"It does not hurt. I can't feel it. The burn is on the surface. It should not scar."

"What do you mean you can't – " he began before his phone cut in with a shrill whistle. The number it displayed instantly soured his mood. "It's Fisk. I have to take this," he snapped bitterly as he moved away from the two women.

As much as he wanted to stay with his girl and take care of her, he had to answer Fisk. That man was becoming increasingly noisy in OsCorp's affairs.

The call took twenty long minutes, and the whole time his eyes never left the redhead. Not once. Felicia was talking to her comfortingly, bathing her burnt hand, and changing the water when it lost its coolness. He felt relief in knowing she was in good hands, though he wished those hands were his.

It was hard to concentrate on what Fisk was saying: Harry was so torn between his duty as a CEO and his responsibility as a boyfriend. He wished that he could devote all his attention to her even though they were still fighting. However, that was not presently possible. Fisk was a huge risk to his company, his criminal activity, and to Hayley.

_If only she knew everything that I do for her, _he thought as he ended the call, placing the cell phone deep in his pocket.

Without his attention elsewhere, Harry was unsure what to do with himself. Talking to Fisk was always draining, and he wanted nothing more than to collapse and rest with a cool drink. However, he still had Hayley to worry about. He walked back the short way over to the two women and plonked himself beside the redhead. Though she didn't react to his presence he made sure as not to dislodge her and her injury.

"How is your hand feeling?" he asked Hayley expectantly. No response was uttered, just catatonic silence. Harry leaned forward with a sigh and rubbed the bridge of his nose stressfully, "Felicia, get me a glass of Bourbon."

"You should not drink alcohol. Remember therapy?" Hayley reminded coolly.

"So you can have your vices, your pills, but you won't _allow_ me to have mine? I can't smoke or drink? Tell me how that's fair? _We_ would love to know."

"You forbade me to take my pills remember? I have nothing! Your true vice is murdering people," she retorted, completely forgetting Felicia kneeling beside her in the heat of the moment.

Strangely, the assistant did not react to the news of Harry's incriminating pastime.

"Seriously Hayley? I don't kill people when I'm stressed – "

"Could have fooled me."

"And we are back to this!" Harry exclaimed, throwing his hands up despairingly. "Felicia, that drink…now!"

"Fe, get him some soda please."

"You do not get to order my staff around! _I_ am the CEO of this company!"

"It's always about power with you isn't it?"

"Felicia – "

"Fe – "

The brunette stood and walked anxiously to the bar, smoothing out the creases of her dress whilst she observed the two argue over something as simple as a drink. She had to admit that Hayley had a point, though it was not her place to say. For someone of his age and social standing, Harry drank way too much alcohol on a daily basis. Whenever she would prepare his drink, Felicia would slightly water down the liquid, though not enough for him to realise. Anything to curb his alcoholic appetite.

"It's been a very stressful day back, and since you _threw_ my cigarillos over the balcony, I need a drink to – "

"Argh! Harry Osborn, you are an alcoholic!" Hayley burst out, standing to her feet in frustration. The shallow glass bowl containing water to cool her hand bounced dangerously on the sofa. She was thankful it didn't fall; otherwise Felicia would have another mess to clean up.

An uncomfortable silence coated the office, its female occupants uneasy and unsure of what could happen next. Defiantly, Hayley matched the venomous, green glare of the Goblin. The small action of raising her chin slightly showed that she was not going to back down from her truthful statement, no matter how much it hurt him.

"Take. That. Back!" Harry growled slowly, teeth clenched in fury. Even though his eyes glowed green, the Goblin had not fully emerged. This anger stemmed deep from the young billionaire himself. "Never, call me that again."

"It's the truth."

More silence followed.

It was a battle of wills between the two, with the redhead boldly holding her own, something she never could have done when they first met. He was almost proud of her conviction…almost.

The quiet could have lasted for a while if it had not been for Harry's phone, which interrupted the tense atmosphere with its piercing ringtone.

When he didn't immediately reach for it, Hayley said stonily, "Answer the phone Harry. It's probably important."

"Not until you take back what you said."

"Then we'll be standing here all day."

Eventually the phone stopped ringing.

To their right, Felicia jumped as her own phone began to ring. "Yes. Yes, I understand. Ok, I'll tell him," she spoke formally, adjusting her Filofax that rested on the bar to make a few notes. Then she called out, "Harry, that was Manners. He said to answer your phone."

Her boss rolled his eyes as his pocket began to vibrate and ring again. Grabbing the frustrating object, he snapped into the receiver, "What? I'm busy!"

Hayley took that as her cue to leave. "I'm going," she called softly to Felicia, who gave her a warm smile.

"No!" Harry barked at her, his sharp eyes trying fix her into submission. "You will not leave until_ I_ say you can. You _will_ stay here until you apologise."

"I have work to do Mr Osborn, and my lunch break is over," the redhead said blankly, quickly making her way to the glass door exit. "I wouldn't want my boss to fire me for slacking off," she mentioned icily before vanishing from the office.

"I will fire you if you leave this room! Hayley! Don't leave! ARGH!" Harry roared, kicking the sofa in frustration. When she did not immediately return, he fell back onto the sofa, completely exhausted by their little encounter. "What?" he snapped down the phone, "I am _not _acting like a child, Manners! Felicia! That drink!"

Hurriedly bringing over half a glass of whisky, Felicia sighed as her boss downed the drink in one go. He barely even winced at the sharp flavour. Then he shoved the glass back into her hands, a clear demanded for another. But before the brunette had even taken a few paces from him, he changed his mind.

"That'll be all," he ordered, dismissing his assistant. As Harry listened to his lawyer, he picked up the forgotten rubber ball on his desk and started to bounce it off the wall again. "Have you got the device? Good. Send it to the Manor immediately."

* * *

"I thought a one-to-one session would enable us to delve deeper into a subject that we touched upon in one of our previous meetings."

Emily Baker paused to gauge the redhead's reaction. The seasoned psychiatrist noted the instantaneous way the girl's shoulders hunched further and how her face fell. Her expensive pen glided over the notebook beneath it, scribbling in shorthand the outward signals and body language that the girl was exhibiting.

"I am familiar with your case," she continued, "and have thoroughly read the report from the previous psychiatrist and caseworker that were assigned to you after the death of your parents."

Still no response except a slight quiver in Hayley's body and hands, almost like someone had walked over her grave. The colour had drained from her face whilst the light was quickly dissipating from her glazed eyes. Clearly the memory of her parent's death was a sore spot for the girl, especially considering her reaction to Mr Osborn's comments from an earlier session.

"Your file mentions that you never cried over their death - am I correct in believing this comment to be true?" Yet again, Baker's words were met with silence. "I am sure the memory is very painful for you to talk about. Their death must have been traumatic for a child of ten, yes? Do you suffer from nightmares or flashbacks?"

"I won't talk about it no matter how hard you try," Hayley spoke finally. Although her conviction was confident, her pained face betrayed her true feelings. "Using prompts from my file will not force me to talk to you. I know what you're trying to do. You seem to forget that I am psychiatrist also."

"In this instance you are not," Baker snapped sharply, a firm yet strained smile upon her lips, "you are a patient in need of therapy."

"Bringing up supposed facts about _that_ event will not make me talk about it. You cannot make me relive the past. I know all your tricks – I had the same education as you."

Sighing impatiently, the psychiatrist rubbed the bridge of her nose beneath her glasses. The girl's insistent refusal to cooperate was wearing, though completely understandable. It was hard for any medical professional to relinquish control of their position and training, especially behavioural therapists. However, Emily Baker was not deterred; she still had a few tricks up her designer jacketed sleeve.

"Surely Mr Osborn's openness and increasing confidence in expressing himself shows you that this is a safe place for personal discussion. Underneath his anger, there was real concern about how you are handling your past on a day-to-day basis. Though his methods were questionable, his heart was in the right place."

"Reverse psychology…really?"

"I am merely stating my observations. As a psychiatrist, I'm _sure_ even you recognise that his behaviour deserves to be rewarded. It might help him to understand your actions and behaviour. Do you not think that he deserves to know more about your past?"

"He knows enough!" Hayley yelled standing furiously. She thought back to that night when Harry had seen her scars. It was one of the hardest, most freeing things she had ever done. But revealing the rest of her fiery past would not provide the same feeling; it would most likely destroy her.

Baker did not flinch at the sudden outburst but merely surveyed the redhead from behind her thick spectacles, inwardly smiling – finally, she was getting under the girl's skin. Nonchalantly, the psychiatrist scribbled down a few sentences before delivering the final blow.

"It must have been hard for a ten year old to lose both her parents and younger sister in the same month," she said, as if the statement did not hold that much significance. Her eyes were trained on the notebook in her lap, hiding her anticipation for the girl's response to her next question. "Her name was Alison, yes?"

"Don't…please…I can't talk about her…please…" the redhead pleaded, her eyes scrunched shut in an attempt to escape from the situation.

"She died of blunt force trauma to the head – "

"Please, p-please stop…"

"The report states she fell down the stairs; you testified as a witness to that fatal accident, correct?"

Hayley sank back onto the couch, tears streaming down her face, "I-I-I beg you…please, I can't take about her…"

"The coroner also documented that there were a variety of burn marks on the four year old. Her back suffered the worst, along with smaller marks on the child's abdomen, legs and arms," Doctor Baker continued, her verbal assault on the girl nowhere near complete. "According to a statement from your parents at the time, Alison accidentally picked up lit cigarettes and injured herself on multiple occasions. It also states that you both were playing with a lighter and _you_ burnt your sister's back."

"W-w-what?" Hayley breathed shakily, intensity returning to her eyes venomously. "Is-s…is that what it says? Does it really say that I hurt her?"

"It does," the psychiatrist replied delicately; she had captured the redhead's attention and opened up a verbal dialogue. All that she needed to do now was carefully pries the truth from her.

"I never touched her! I never hurt my sister…I would never…I tried to protect her!"

"Your parent's claimed that you hurt Alison on multiple occasions."

Hayley looked up to the ceiling as if everything she ever knew was a lie…because it was. "It was them," she implored, every syllable laced with devastating emotion. Her sobs raked her tiny body as tears peppered the trembling hands in her lap, "It was them!"

"Breathe Hayley," the psychiatrist instructed, "I want to remind you that you are safe here: nothing leaves this room. What was "them"?"

Shaking her head, Hayley continued, "They never touched me. _Never_. Just her. They only hurt her…only Ally…why?"

"Keeping breathing deep breaths, and try to calm yourself - "

"Calm down? I just found out that my parents tried to frame me for their abuse, and you want me to be calm?!"

"Hayley – "

"They used to burn her," the redhead said quietly, her body suddenly eerily still, voice steady without emotion. "They would stick their lit fags on her arms and legs. As they burnt her, they laughed. They laughed as she screamed and cried. They laughed as the smell of burning flesh reached their noses. Every time she did something naughty, moved wrong, played incorrectly, looked in their direction even, they would burn her. Any excuse to flip open that lighter and run the flame down her back."

Emily Baker listened entrapped by the girl's solemn confession, the pen slack in her hand, its purpose long forgotten. There was never a moment for her to interject, and she had no reason to.

Almost out of guilt, Hayley reached for her ponytail, twirling the long, ginger strands in her fingers, "I've always had long hair and she always had short hair. My parents enjoyed holding a flame to a pair of metal scissors, heating them until the blades glowed amber. Then they would hold it to her hair, watching as the strands singed and charred. For four years they abused her…but…they never once touched me."

"How do you feel about that? That they hurt your sister but not you?"

"Like the most vile human being on this planet. I'm as much to blame as they are."

"You were only a child at the time, Hayley, no older than ten," Doctor Baker reassured. "Did you not consider going to the police after she died, or even a teacher at school?"

"I couldn't."

"Why?"

"Even at ten years old I knew it was my word against theirs. Besides, I never saw any of it happen," Hayley smiled sadly. "I was always told to go upstairs and sit in my closet until they called for me to come out. I would sit in the dark and listen to her screams. I couldn't protect her. I failed at being a big sister. They killed her, and all I could was hide. I was powerless."

"How did your parents act after your sister's death?"

"What do you mean?"

"Did they start harming you?"

"Once…only once," she said numbly, her voice shallow and haunting, "only once… the day before they died." Hayley's mouth broke out into a sinister grin, an expression that did not sit well on her petite face.

"Their death pleased you?"

"Of course. They deserved to burn for what they did. They deserved to feel every licking flame burn them alive. It was such a fitting death, wouldn't you agree?"

Emily Baker stayed silent as a dangerous spark ignited in her patient's green eyes – it was the same vengeful look that Harry Osborn had exhibited when he was the Goblin. They both had the eyes of a murderer.

"Are you…are you admitting to being involved in your parent's murder?"

"It seemed only right for them to die by my hands. It was the only thing I could do for my sister. We all deserved to die that day. I should have burnt to death in the very closet where I hid in fear."

"Do you feel guilty for having lived?"

"Every single day."

* * *

Harry stared at the listening device that sat next to the cold cup of coffee on the bureau in front of him. He had heard every word between his little redhead and the probing psychiatrist.

Realisation washed over him now that the full extent of the damage inflicted on Hayley's back had been revealed; it was the mark of a guilty bystander, a testament to the abuse of her sister, and a permanent symbol reminding her that she should have died that day. Harry was glad she hadn't. Even if living was a constant struggle for her, he was happy that she was alive. Without her in his life, he was nothing. She had shaped him, supported him, loved him…all of him. He really was being a jackass.

Casting his mind back to the argument they had in his office, Harry now understood her animosity towards him smoking. It had been a reminder of the torture little Alison had endured. He made a mental note to dispose of every cigarillo packet at his office and in the Osborn Manor. It was a small gesture, one that would probably go unnoticed, but he didn't care – it was the principal of the thing. His actions held meaning, and as long as he knew their significance then that was all that mattered. It was the least he could to make amends. He was meant to be her protector, her hero, and all he had done was play the abusive villain.

So lost in his thoughts, Harry barely noticed the loud sobbing coming from the speaker; "I'm a murderer…and I would do it again if I could," came Hayley's voice.

"_I suspected our little Ginge was hiding a secret, but this is simply perfect! She is even more complex than we thought," _the Goblin pondered gleefully. "_You have to admit, this recent revelation is a turn on! Our scarred little redhead, beautifully damaged and corrupted. She is – "_

" – a murderer."

"_As are you_. _She is a cold blooded murderer, and she is – "_

"Perfect."

They listened to the remainder of the therapy session in silence, wanting to drink in every single word and delectable secret that tumbled out of those distressed lips.

"You know, I think Hayley might enjoy the final phase of our plan."

""_The "burning man"? What do you have in mind?"_

"Would it not be fitting to have our girl complete the final act? To have justice be inflicted by her hands?"

"_That's the best idea you've had yet Osborn. Yes. We'll have Ginge strike the first match."_

* * *

**HELLO! God it's been forever! Thank you all so much for your kind words, patience and understanding – you are all gems. **

**Guess what happened on June 12****th****? This story became a year old! I could not have achieved this without you, my dear moosey readers. So you all get a treat…. ANOTHER CHAPTER THIS MONTH! **

**Sorry if you can't review this chapter because you already reviewed it when it was "message" content. **

**MUCH LOVE XXX**

**P.S. (Exciting behind the scenes decisions) **

**It took me forever to decide who had contacted the psychiatrist in the previous chapter. It was a toss up between Peter, Felicia, and Harry. I think Harry was the right choice to make, though for a while I was leaning towards Fe!**

**A deleted scene inspired Harry's stress relief ball throwing antics – it can be found on the DVD's Special Features. **

**Also, I think we all guessed Hayley's past wasn't a pleasant one, but I thought that to have the abuse happen to her was a bit cliché for an OC, so that's why I chose her sister. **

**This chapter was a bitch to write…hopefully it doesn't suck!**


	30. Chapter 30

**I do not own Spider-Man, The Amazing Spider-Man 2 movie, video game or anything related to the Marvel franchise! **

* * *

"You didn't have to come with me," the redhead muttered flatly, "it's not like I haven't been here before. Kraven or James or Pete could have taken me."

It was a nice gesture that Harry had decided to tag along to her appointment with Doctor Jacobi at the Burns Unit, but totally unnecessary. She wasn't ungrateful; it was just that her scars were personal. Sure he had seen them before and said that they were beautiful, however Hayley would forever feel uncomfortable about them. Especially since returning every six months to the place that tried and failed to fix her really brought up old memories. There were already too many memories from the past running around in her mind.

"You and your welfare is important to me. I thought…I should take a more active role," Harry explained with a winning smile, his blue eyes shining with warmth and sincerity.

She was about to make a snide remark about him causing ninety per cent of her health problems but quickly stopped herself. Everything about his body language, calm voice and mellow facial expression conveyed that he was being entirely serious. It was like he had done a complete one-eighty over night. The changes in him were small, subtle even, though Hayley had indeed noticed. He had become more attentive since the incident on the balcony. Instead of ignoring her, Harry was now acknowledging her existence again. Holding open doors, informing her if he was going out or arriving back late from work. He had even visited her on their lunch break in the labs at OsCorp! It was great to have the loving Harry back, even if it was slightly suffocating after months of icy neglect.

_Maybe I'm not giving him enough credit, _Hayley considered. _Maybe therapy is working for him?_

They walked in total silence through the maze of hospital corridors, looking like a rather odd pair. The redhead was in her trusty Metallica hoody and newly purchased paisley blue skinny jeans; there was really no point dressing up for a simple hospital appointment. Harry however was another story. He was dressed all in black with a leather jacket and boots. His Ray-bans were firmly fixed over his eyes, glistening under the yellow strip lights. Amongst the ill patients and uniform clad staff he appeared like a rock star, a James Dean wannabe. It was all rather pretentious and embarrassing really. Hayley preferred to be as invisible as possible in the hospital – her anxiety was already through the roof.

After a short while they reached the appropriate waiting room. Hayley took the lead and after registering her attendance she plonked herself on one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs. A worn gossip magazine quickly appeared in her hands and she buried her nose in it, anything to remove herself from the situation. They were an hour early since Harry was strangely eager to leave as soon as they had awoken this morning. She didn't even have time to see the news or eat her customary cornflakes.

Harry followed suit and sat down beside her awkwardly, his jacket squeaking against the hard chair. The room was fairly quiet which only made the silence between them seem like an eternity to him. Short of reading some year old magazines or doing a half complete crossword puzzle, there was nothing to do other than watch the minutes tick by. The only other activity he could be doing was to answer numerous emails on his phone. Since that idea did not appeal to him in the slightest, Harry took the opportunity to close his eyes for a few short minutes of rest. With his sunglasses still on no one would be able to tell if he were to accidently fall asleep.

It felt like he had nodded off for only a few seconds but in reality thirty minutes had passed.

A sudden jarring sensation jolted him awake, and his heart raced as the adrenaline for the potential of trouble bubbled in his veins. Glancing down he saw Hayley's pale hand squeezing his wrist with all her strength, whilst her black painted nails dug deep into his flesh. Harry was about to demand a reason for her harsh and irrational action until he noticed the expression on her face.

Hayley's mouth was open slightly, her green eyes wide with a mixture of shock and terror. The palette of her skin had some how become much paler, with a slight green pigment suggesting that she was feeling very ill and uneasy. Her bandaged, burned hand was clenched over her mouth like she was holding back the reaction to vomit. However, the way she gripped _his _arm held a different emotion; she was quaking with rage.

He had absolutely no idea what had got her so worked up until he followed her eyes to the waiting room big screen television; the news was currently showing.

"…_three more bodies have been found and identified as twenty-five year old Ross Cooper, thirty-nine year old Cadence Gillmore, and fifty-five year old Horace Poland All were staff at the renowned Ravencroft Institute for the…"_

"You did this," Hayley commented rhetorically for she already knew the answer; her voice was as dead as her eyes.

"…_in connection with, what some have dubbed as the "Pumpkin Prince" serial killer, who has been terrorising Manhattan as of late. These recent deaths have been described as the killer's most brutal and barbaric…"_

"This is why we left early, isn't it? You didn't want me to see the news."

_Damn, she's smarter than I give her credit for, _Harry thought bitterly.

"_Bingo Ginge!" _the Goblin contributed aloud gleefully before Harry could stop him. His green alter ego enjoyed taking credit for their work.

The redhead continued to stare in disbelief at the television, unable to peel her eyes away from the horror being reported. "Why…why would you do this? They were innocent. They only worked with me, that's all. They were innocent," she said flatly_. Why had this happened?_ She almost didn't want to know.

"Their deaths were necessary. They knew too much to stay alive," Harry replied calmly, placing his hand over hers, which was still holding his wrist like a vice.

"…_It has been revealed that last weeks fire at Ravencroft broke out in an occupied security guard room. The incident claimed eight victims in total, all guards from the institute. Their deaths are thought to also be the work of the same serial killer after pumpkin remains were found at the scene. All bodies have been identified; guardsman Stuart McCreevy, Colin Hampshire…"_

"You killed them all…you killed them all…you killed them all…" Hayley whispered repeatedly, the shock making her feel numb inside. They had only known her; that was their only crime. "You disgust me!" she seethed with venom, her eyes vibrant green with anger, narrowed like a viper ready to strike.

He was about to respond when Doctor Jacobi approached them. As soon as the redhead caught sight of her consultant she jumped out of her seat and zoomed in the direction of his office before the confused man had even said a word.

* * *

Sitting in the familiar office helped to slightly ease her anxiety. She had lost count of how many times she had been in this same scenario: her, shifting uncomfortably in an office chair, him, sitting across from her smiling kindly. However, the familiarity did not stop her hatred for it.

Being a consult, Doctor Jacobi's office wasn't as cold and sterile in comparison to the majority of the hospital. Because he also dealt with children on the Burns ward, he kept a small crate of colourful books and toys by child sized plastic chairs in the corner of his room. Hayley recognised some of the stuffed animals from back in the day, as well as a picture book about a phoenix rising from the ashes. She had never quite decided whether or not the book was in poor taste. Ironic, yes. Inspiring? That was up to interpretation.

Apart from the toys, colour filled, abstract paintings decorated the walls. Some were professionally done whereas others had been gifts and mementos from patients over the years. The doctor had dedicated a section of the wall to the not so elegant drawings from his child patients. There was everything from finger painting to stick figures, to the childish usage of two definite lines of blue and green to represent the sky and grass. Right in the centre of the collage was a drawing of a flame haired girl with enormous black wings, flying in the blue strip sky. Holding hands beside her was another girl, smaller than the first, with short blonde hair and ginormous wings that were fluffy and white like clouds. The picture depicted a tiny angel and the angel of death.

Hayley could still remember drawing that picture in her first month on the ward. Seeing that he had kept that silly doodle all this time helped to sober her up, bringing her out of her shocked state a little more. She had to put on the act again, pretend that what had just transpired between Harry and herself never happened. They had to keep up appearances; they had to look pristine and perfect and polished and…

_Why am I still protecting him?_

"So," the doctor began, crossing his legs and taking a pen to her case file, "how have you been since I last saw you?"

"Fine…I guess," Hayley replied with a nonchalant shrug.

Jacobi tried a more direct and specific question this time – he was used to his patient's verbal avoidance. "We increased your Amitriptyline and started you on a course of Co-codamol, yes? How have you been fairing with those doses?"

"I-I stopped taking my medication," the redhead confessed reluctantly, her posture collapsing in on herself as she spoke. Her eyes avoided the doctor's astonished gaze like a guilty child.

"All of them?"

"Yes," Hayley confirmed, licking her lips nervously, "all of them…except my Sulfadiazine cream."

"And what made you decide this without consulting me?"

What could she say? Because my billionaire boyfriend does not approve of me taking drugs and forced me to stop? That wouldn't go down well…she had to keep up appearances. So Hayley offered Jacobi nothing. No explanation other than looking down at her feet.

"I do not approve of your actions, however if you are managing without them then there is not much I can say. If you are happy to be off them and think you can manage without, then it's your choice. We will have to do further blood tests and examinations now that you have made me aware of the situation," the doctor chastised. "You must be suffering from some withdrawal symptoms, yes? This is why you need to consult a doctor before undertaking something such as this! I've known you for years Hayley, and this is completely out of character for you!"

She felt like a child being scolded. All of this she knew and understood but with the memories of her past uncomfortably in her mind, Hayley didn't have room to think of much else. "I'm receiving counselling, er, for my mood and…and other things."

The caring doctor paused. He took in the girl's sallow complexion, her defeatist aura, and the difference in the quality of her clothing. "The spotlight can be difficult," Jacobi said quietly, offering council and understanding for her situation. His patient was a fragile girl, always had been, and it was difficult for him to witness the suffering behind her façade – he had seen that look in her green eyes when she was admitted to hospital all those years ago. "Shall we continue the appointment? I will need to call in a female nurse to help with the examination."

Hayley sighed and rolled her eyes as he left the room; it was just like last time. Except…maybe it wasn't. The doctor had yet to inspect her scars. After his earlier chastising, was he really just going to record her weight and then let her leave?

Jacobi returned shortly with a nurse in tow, one who looked much nicer than the one from her previous experience six months ago.

"Ill draw this curtain closed, if you could please remove your clothing and slip on this gown," the woman commanded kindly, handing her the hospital gown.

The redhead blanched and physically shrank where she sat, "W-w-what? Why?"

"I need to inspect your scars as well as take your height and weight," Jacobi explained, already anticipating some resistance. "I know this will be difficult for you Hayley, but I haven't looked at the entirety of your scars properly for some time. This needs to be done. You are safe. I have brought in the female nurse to make you feel more comfortable."

"B-b-but I didn't have to do this last time!" Hayley moaned distressfully, hyperventilating as she spoke.

She felt like an animal trapped in a cage with nowhere to go. It was not that she didn't understand what was being asked of her or why she had to remove her clothing and be inspected, it's just that the only person who had seen her naked was Harry. Exposing her body to anyone, even a doctor that she trusted and had known all her life was enough to increase her anxiety tenfold. More than anything, Hayley wanted to run and hide but the only option she had was to comply.

Confidence. The redhead needed confidence and protection in this situation, a stabiliser to combat her intense feelings of vulnerability. Someone or something that could hold her hand and tell her that everything would be all right…

"Can I have someone else in here with me please!" Hayley practically shrieked before realising what she was even saying. Clearly her emotions were getting the best of her.

Doctor Jacobi appraised the scared girl and smiled, nodding his head in understanding. "Ruth," he spoke to the assistant nurse, "could you please go to the waiting room and collect Mr Osborn, the young man in the sunglasses."

Hayley returned his smile gratefully before closing the partition curtain behind her. Nervousness overtook and her hands shook violently as she removed her clothing piece by piece. It took all her concentration not to cry. The cool air hit her bare, scarred back and she hastily covered her partially naked frame with the thin hospital gown. Even though her underwear remind she still felt exposed, naked for all to look upon her past sins.

The door opened and closed, alerting her to the nurse's return with Harry.

"Good day Mr Osborn, I am Doctor Jacobi, it is a pleasure to meet you," she heard her consultant say. "Hayley has requested your presence today because the nurse and I will be doing a full body check up you see, and she would feel more comfortable if you were also in the room with us."

Opening the curtain, the redhead caught the moment of surprise on Harry's face at the doctor's words. He glanced towards her and they made eye contact; his icy blues seemed warmer than usual and the young billionaire offered an encouraging smile.

Hayley knew she was not strong enough to go through something as simple as a medical exam alone. This situation reminded her of when Harry had been examined by those brutes in Ravencroft. All eyes had been on him as he was poked and prodded at their mercy; the whole time, his green orbs were fixed on her. She had been his strength in that moment, so, now it was time for him to be hers.

Inside, Harry was glowing with happiness at being needed, especially after she'd called him disgusting only a few minutes ago. The Goblin was practically doing backflips with satisfactory glee. Her anxiety must be bad if she had sought his help so readily. No doubt her pride would have taken a hit but who was he to argue. He and his Id both watched eagle eyed as the doctor and nurse approached the apprehensive girl, giving her instructions, talking her through the examination as they went.

They may now be sleeping in the same bed but he hadn't seen Hayley's naked body since the last time they had had sex. Greedily, his eyes travelled over her pale back made exposed by the gap in the gown, taking in her shaking and goose pimples. The fact that she was shivering was not surprising. The vertebrae of her spine jutted out painfully with aggravated skin and rust coloured bruises running down the length. Her scars were still glasslike and beautiful to him however he saw no improvement in their appearance; in fact they seemed irritated and raw. A faint outline of her ribs was also visible, and for the first time it dawned on Harry that her delicate thinness wasn't entirely healthy or natural. And by the concerned looks being shared between the doctor and nurse, they too had arrived at the same conclusion.

Even though she was evidently frightened, Hayley was still clinging onto her act. When the doctor questioned her broken fingers, she lied effortlessly, telling the same fib she had done when they had first been injured – the trick was to keep her dishonesty consistent. In fairness her fingers had long since healed, however she continued to wear strapping as a beacon of reminder to Harry that his reckless actions had consequences.

Her newest injury, the burn on her palm, was documented, cleaned, and rebadged by the nurse, Ruth. Yet another lie was given, one of picking up a boiled kettle. The damaged area still stung and felt hot to her. Hot like the flames that had licked and caused her harm. It had hurt Hayley immensely to grab that lighter, but she endured the pain silently because it was her punishment.

"If you could please step on the scale backwards for us so we can record your height and weight," Ruth asked the tiny redhead. Moving the ruler to the correct height, she wrote down the girl's measurements as well as the number displayed on the scale's screen. "Thank you, you may step off now."

Thankful that her ordeal was nearly over, Hayley hid behind the partition curtain as she hurriedly changed back into her clothes. It felt so good to have her skin covered once more, and she let out a long sigh. The shakes that were controlling her body and hands started to subside as the anxiety within her began to mellow. It was over. It was over for another six months, and for that she was truly grateful.

After righting herself she came out from behind the curtain and sat beside Harry, giving his hand a small squeeze in thanks.

"We will be contacting you about extra blood tests since we need to monitor your system after coming off your medication so suddenly," Jacobi said pointedly, fixing the young billionaire with a cold stare, for he was certain that it was the boy's influence. "Your scars are currently severely irritated due to your low weight. Therefore I am also going to recommend you see an outpatient eating - "

"Wait, what?" Hayley interrupted in protest, eyes wide in disbelief. Her breathing became unsteady as feelings of betrayal started to seep into her mind. "Why?! I-I don't have a disorder. I eat! Harry, I eat! Tell them!"

Harry put an arm his ginger doll and ignored her comments, nodding to the doctor in understanding. "If you send the letters to my manor then I will see she attends those appointments," he said speaking to the doctor as if Hayley didn't even exist.

Doctor Jacobi's stern look never faded from his face as they conversed. "Will her insurance cover the cost? Or…?"

"I will be paying for her treatment," Harry confirmed pulling the redhead closer to him possessively, "so there is no need to be concerned about money. I will make sure Hayley receives the help she needs."

* * *

She had been ignoring Harry since the hospital visit. It angered her that he would talk with _her _doctor about _her _finances, let alone agree with his absurd recommendations. There was no need for her to go to some stupid clinic because she wasn't ill! However Harry and Jacobi had other ideas. It was like they were conspiring against her! It left a bad taste in her mouth but tonight she had to put away all the feelings of betrayal deep down in her heart. Tonight she needed to put on the act again, play the supportive, perfect, socialite girlfriend, and maybe, just maybe, she would even have fun.

They were going to the Halloween gala after all.

"And what are you supposed to be?" Hayley questioned as she entered the living area. The man that greeted her looked absolutely gorgeous, and she had to lean against the doorframe for support as her legs turned to jelly.

Harry turned at her inquisitive voice, his eyes dragging over her body slowly to take in every minute detail; she appeared so sultry and seductive standing like that. "What else would I be?" he responded jovially, his hands rose in question as if the answer was obvious. "But a goblin, of course."

"In a suit?"

"A sophisticated goblin in a designer suit, yes."

Hayley's face broke into a grin, the most genuine and natural smile he had seen in a long time. It took his breath away that she could smile that way for him, like he was the only one she had eyes for.

"You both are impossible," she sighed with a small headshake, giggling at how ironic the situation was.

What else did she expect? For him to dress up like a ghost, a demon, or some toga wearing frat boy? No, this costume was Harry's essence through and through.

His suit was slick and as black as coal, with a slight sheen woven into the material. Whenever he moved and it hit the light, a green iridescent hue sparkled and shined. The shirt he wore was also black, though matte in comparison to his suit, whilst his tie was emerald green.

The Halloween part of his outfit was portrayed in his facial and body makeup. Every inch of his exposed flesh was covered in a deep, jaundice green colour, mottled exactly like his goblin Retroviral Hypodysplasia symptoms. The tips of Harry's nose and ears were pointed to accentuate the ghoulish goblin character he had chosen to dress as. Even his nails and teeth were different, less polished. The overall effect would be truly frightening for those who had never seen Harry in his goblin form – it even made Hayley feel uneasy. It was like she was back in his Ravencroft cell meeting him for the first time.

"Nice makeup," she complimented slowly, "you really do look like the go…a goblin."

"Hmmm? Yes, I do, don't I," Harry replied offhandedly, successfully making light of his costume so as not to arouse suspicion.

"It looks very real! The makeup artist did a fantastic job."

"_Keep telling yourself that Ginge. You know in your heart it's not really makeup," _the Goblin cackled in his host's mind. "_You'll see soon enough…you'll accept the truth."_

Harry shook his head to clear away the Goblin's words, needing to focus on the moment. "And what are you dressed as doll? A devil?"

"Close. I'm…I'm one of the four elements," she said awkwardly, glancing at her feet. "Felicia and Karen decided we should dress as the four elements even though there is only three of us. Naturally, I got fire because of my hair."

The melancholy look on her face almost broke him. Knowing the full extent of her fiery past was almost a hindrance in this moment. He wanted nothing more than to comfort her, but to do so would expose his intrusive sleuthing. Instead, Harry had to remain aloof, keeping the façade of only being aware that she was burnt in a fire, not that she had started it and became a murderer.

"Does this costume displease you?"

"You know how I feel about fire…I couldn't give them the real reason why I didn't want to be fire, so I got stuck with it," Hayley sighed heavily, closing her eyes. "It's only fancy dress I know – "

"Try not to think of it as fire," Harry said softly, going over to the distressed girl, "think of your costume as a portrayal of the inner you, of your inner fire."

"My inner fire?" she questioned, her eyebrow quirked with confused intrigue.

Putting his hands on her rouge painted arms, he rubbed his thumbs over the cute goose pimples on her skin, "Yes. You have a light inside you that shines. They didn't just give you fire because of your hair Hayley. I mean is Karen dressing as air?"

"Because she's blonde?"

"Exactly," Harry grinned, glad she caught on to his joke. "The first day I ever saw you, there was nothing behind your eyes, however there was fire in your actions and conviction. That light has burned brighter with each passing day. You were my light, my hope in Ravencroft; you showed me the way. You saved me. The element that describes you best will always be fire. Not because of your past, but because of your strength."

"H-Harry…" the redhead gasped, her eyes wide with emotion, small tears decorating her eyelashes, "…I…I…"

"You don't have to say anything," he murmured, his breath ghosting over her beautiful face.

It was not that she didn't want to express herself but rather that she somehow couldn't. His kind words had left her speechless, his actions at the hospital forgotten. There was so much Hayley wanted to tell him, so much she wanted to say, and yet the words would not form on her lips.

_Maybe I don't need words._

Instinctively leaning forward, her eyes glanced at his plump lips, noting how even they were covered in make up. However she didn't care. It had been a considerable amount of time since they had shared a kiss, and Hayley no longer wanted to deny herself that small pleasure. He had captivated her heart with his words, and now she wanted to swoon at his touch.

As their lips met, Hayley noticed how the young billionaire momentarily relaxed, a sigh of satisfaction escaping into her mouth. Electricity soared through her veins and arties causing her heart to thump wildly with passion. A sort of frenzy was building within her. However her body's reaction did not match the sweet and delicate kiss she had received, so she mewled in response with an unsatisfactory lament. Deciding to be bold, Hayley ran her tongue slowly over his bottom lip before delicately biting it. Strong fingers dug into her arms and Harry pressed his body against hers, as he obliged in deepening the kiss. Thank goodness the redhead was still leaning against the doorframe, otherwise they would have both fallen over with the force of his lust.

After a very heated moment, Harry drew back slowly, "You truly look beautiful tonight Hayley."

The redhead smiled coyly in response before also looking down at her very elaborate attire. Her outfit for the gala was far from what she would call a traditional Halloween costume.

Gone were the juvenile days of witches' hats, fairy wings and ridiculous neon tutus bought at Walmart. The rich and elite celebrated All Hallows' Eve very differently, for it was all about getting on to the best-dressed list. The socialites wanted to be the talk of Manhattan, to grab next morning's headlines and fill their pages with vain photography. That meant expensive, tailor-made, designer versions of Halloween staples; high-class caricatures, extravagant dresses and elegant suits with a dash of paranormal makeup. Any publicity was good publicity. The point was to appear like a couture creation instead of a traditional Halloween character.

Realistically the theme meant nothing, as the holiday was just a mere excuse for another fancy ball.

In Hayley's case, in the place of multiple red and orange tutus with homemade paper flames, she was sporting a more refined fire costume. A rouge, satin jumpsuit with a strapless, sweetheart neckline clothed her thin frame. Down the trouser legs the fabric faded to black, creating an ombré flame effect, with dark, strappy heels to match. Across her bare chest were swirls of gold, orange, yellow and red that the makeup artist Lucy had painstakingly painted onto her skin. Tiny Swarovski crystals had also been applied, causing tiny prisms of light to dance over her body. The jumpsuit exposed the top part of her back with the scars on her shoulder blades open for scrutiny. Lucy had been kind enough to carefully paint large flames over the scars, which also travelled down the lengths of her arms. The overall effect was that of flames consuming her delicate body.

As much as Hayley loved her look, the thought of fire overwhelming her was cruelly ironic.

At least her facial makeup was more in line with traditional Halloween dress. Large, red, false eyelashes were fixed over her lids, with an exaggerated smoky eye covering her pale skin in the shape of a thin mask. There were also a ridiculous amount of crystals dotted over her face in sparkling clusters. Her ginger hair cascaded over her left shoulder in loose, purposeful curls, which complimented the mix of sophisticated horror perfectly.

It had taken just over three hours for the makeup artist to complete the redhead's costume, much to Harry's annoyance – he was not a patient man after all, none of the Osborn's were. However, he could not deny that the final look was well worth the wait.

"If we didn't have to leave, I would take you right here against the door," he purred in a voice that he knew would make her melt. The green in his eyes was ablaze with intense lust to once again feel her naked, porcelain skin beneath his hands. Harry slowly stroked her cheek with his long, gnarled fingers, before ghosting them down her throat, "Hayley, tonight, I will make you _scream_ for me."

She shuddered under his touch, not from fear but rather sexual wanton.

_It had been so long…_

A sharp rap on the living area door signalled that the car was ready for them. If it were any other old function, Harry would make the driver wait, as he did not want to stop their little moment from unfolding further. However, Manners, Felicia and Karen were already in the car and the lawyer would no doubt get grumpy if they were late. That man liked everything to run like clockwork.

Grinning a toothy, goblin grin, Harry reached to take her hand. He was careful not hold on too tightly, mindful of her new burn injury that was covered by a scarlet, organza glove. They had to keep up appearances, and covering any injuries he had caused her was unfortunately part of their relationship in regards to their public image. It made him sad and full of regret for ever picking up that first cigarillo. Though he meant no harm towards her in that moment, he had damaged her; she had become withdrawn and quiet in the days that followed the balcony incident and her therapy confession. However one wouldn't know it from how she was acting this evening.

Hayley smiled in surprise at his gentleness. _Maybe tonight would be a turning point in getting our relationship back on track, _she thought hopefully.

* * *

The limo ride was boisterous and loud because the whole party was there: Manners and his secretary Karen, Felicia, Harry, and herself. It made her feel warm inside, special even, that she had such a large group of friends. Yet, her only friend, the one who had been with her since childhood, was no longer on this Earth. Guilt started to creep in and Hayley shuddered at the thought of betraying Gwen's friendship by having fun with her new friends.

Harry noticed a dip in the redhead's energy so he put a comforting arm around her waist, drawing her close. His hand was firm and possessive but she barely noticed. Peace washed over her and she looked up to see such a beautiful smirk on her boyfriend's face. It was a content, proud smile, and one that made his chiselled features appear soft. Even through the thick, green makeup, happiness radiated from him. Hayley had never seen him so at ease and comfortable with himself – was it all down to her? Could she be the cause of his happiness?

A memory of Gwen abruptly flashed into her mind.

They had gotten into a fight a month before her death. The blonde had confronted her with concerns over Hayley's health, though she couldn't remember the exact topic. The argument had ended in tears with the redhead sobbing in her friend's lap. She remembered what Gwen had said to her that day, and why that memory had appeared so suddenly upon seeing Harry smile.

In that moment of tears and worry, the pretty blonde was smiling also, her kind, Miss America winning smile. "You deserve to be happy, Hayley. That is all I have ever wanted for you."

Gwen's words rang true in her head: _be happy._

Her friends in the car made her happy. The man holding her was her happiness.

"Are you alright?" Harry murmured, low enough for only her to hear.

"Yes," she replied with sigh, her green eyes sparkling. Snuggling further into his warmth, Hayley continued, "When I'm with you, I am always alright."

They shared a quiet moment together before Harry quickly pulled her head sharply into his lap.

"Harry! What the fu – "

A small but firm, tan object sailed past them and whacked into the car seat where her head had been mere seconds ago.

"Oops! Sorry Hay!" screeched Karen with a drunken giggle from one of the seats further down the limo. In her hands she held a freshly uncorked champagne bottle, aloft like a prize. "Anyone want some more bubbly? If, if not, _hic_, Dave will drink it all!" she goaded with a grin, snatching away the bottle when Manners tried to grab it.

Hayley giggled as she watched the pair squabble over the expensive liquor. It was always fun to see the handsome lawyer enjoy himself in a more playful manner. His secretary was bubbly and somewhat garish at times but she did her job well and had turned Manners into less of a player, though he would profusely deny it.

The lawyer had always had a weakness for blondes, and even though Harry didn't find the woman attractive, Manners seemed besotted with her. She got away with murder. Teasing the man and goading him with her womanly wiles and quick tongue - she was slowly breaking down the many walls that prefect breeding had instilled in him. Finally he was no longer so stuck up, and it was all thanks to Karen…and the alcohol.

The blonde secretary was not dressed as the element air like Harry had joked; in fact she had decided to go as water. She wore a strapless, body-con wrap dress with a chiffon overlay. Its colour was myriad of cool blues and deep sea greens, with a pearlescent wave pattern that seemed to ripple as the fabric sashayed with her curvaceous movements. Her face was also painted expertly with a design that mirrored flowing waves perfectly, and her hair was curled and pinned in layers reminiscent of the Twenties flapper era.

"Shhhh! Dave…you can't, can't have it! It's mine!" Karen slurred loudly. "Pink champag…champne…FE! What's the…that fancy, shmansy – "

"Champagne?" the brunette, who had been a quiet observer up until now, supplied helpfully.

"Exactly! Pink shampain is for girls! Hey!"

Manners snatched away the bottle and glugged down the rose-coloured liquid, "Mine now, Karen! Stop being so utterly ridiculous – hey! Give it back!"

"Make me!"

Felicia tutted quietly to herself at the blonde's already intoxicated state, whilst sipping her own champagne elegantly. She touched her hair lightly, checking that her elaborate style was still in place. Her brunette locks had been gathered together to create a bird nest style updo. Faux twigs and tiny, decorative, white birds were used and placed to emulate an ethereal crown. The dress she wore was simple with an A-line silhouette. Its colour was a deep mahogany brown like the earth element she was trying to represent. Muted feathers, small twigs, and moss were in various clusters on Felicia's bare skin.

The redhead couldn't help but to admire and be a little bit jealous of how beautiful her friend was in her simplicity.

"We're late," Manners remarked grouchily, swatting away the roaming hands of his drunken date. He glanced down at his Rolex and sighed pointedly, "Look at the time."

"Calm down," Harry commented back. "Tonight is meant to be fun. At least try and act like a normal human being. I thought you were used to these functions considering your Ivy League background."

"Dressed as this? How am I meant to have fun?"

Hayley offered the lawyer a warm smile. "I think you look rather dashing," she complimented. For he did, indeed, look as handsome as always.

Dave Manners had decided to take a more traditional and subtle approach to his Halloween costume. Never one to be seen out of some type of suit, Manners was dressed as an airline pilot. His navy uniform was an altered, designer suit, embroidered with the appropriate gold patches, insignias, and golden buttons. A pair of aviator glasses and pilot's flat cap completed the look, the latter of which Karen was currently trying to steal from him. Apparently the champagne had been consumed and forgotten.

"He's just upset that he can't flirt with other women," Harry said in a low voice, smirking all the while – he knew his friend all too well.

Reaching to take Harry's hand in hers, the redhead intertwined their fingers, a smile unable to leave her face; tonight was going to be one to remember.

* * *

Just like the last ball she had attended, the Halloween gala was held at the extravagantly decked out Waldorf Astoria. This time however, Hayley could feel a buzz in the air of wonder and magic; the excitement of All Hallows Eve was palpable.

The paparazzi were lined up either side of the red carpet as usual, though this time the carpeted path happened to be midnight blue with a subtle damask print covering it. They seemed even more sinister and imposing than before. Many of the men and women holding cameras were sporting masks of every shape and kind. Everywhere Hayley looked there were werewolves, phantoms, ghouls, even a Scream mask. One would think that the photographers dressing up would be comical but not to her. To be unable to see their eyes, their intent, and whom they were watching, made the hairs on Hayley's painted arms stand on edge.

Harry took it all in his stride, posing and turning like a seasoned professional model. Not one person recoiled at his makeup; no one batted an eyelid at how much he resembled his former villainous self.

There had been a lot of media coverage when the young billionaire had been captured and sent to Ravencroft, Hayley recalled. However, the news channels were only able to use stock photographs of his everyday persona and did not have a photo of him in action or in his Goblin form. The only image that did exist of Harry as the Goblin was grainy and barely decipherable. So bar Hayley, Manners, Felicia, and the Ravencroft staff, the public had never witnessed the Goblin's true form; they had only heard about him.

This realisation made Hayley beam because she had been so worried of him being shunned or horrifically rejected due to his lifelike makeup. Only she knew his Id's face…it was their secret. She leaned upwards slightly at the pleasant thought and popped a feather light kiss upon his mouth. The camera's flashed with ridiculous, hungry speed.

"Going for the money shot are we?" Harry purred, reaching out to hold her hip. "I thought you despised the paparazzi? And now you're giving them what they crave."

"You're right Harry, I do dislike them, but I am not giving them what they want," she replied with earnest, "I am giving you what you deserve."

Initially her response caught him off guard, and his heart began to beat wildly. "_And what do I deserve?"_ the Goblin asked with genuine curiosity.

"Happiness."

"Happiness?" The word was foreign, almost forgotten to him; its sound barely ever crossed his lips, let alone his mind. He had never really known happiness.

"Yes. You are my happiness Harry…Goblin. I hope I can be yours."

Warmth filled his icy eyes. "Screw the cameras," he muttered. With one swift motion, Harry cradled her cheek in his hand and kissed her with all the fiery passion he could muster.

* * *

The ballroom was even more beautiful than she could have ever imagined.

The grand room was alive with people, the festivities well under way. The usual opulent drapes that framed the room had been changed to midnight velvet with tree shapes spray-painted on in silver. Huge candelabras were stationed around all entrances and exits, appearing like mystical sentinels marking the way for weary, drunk travellers. Black, silver, and dark navy ribbons hung like streamers across the ceiling of the ballroom, dipping up and down in a zigzag, Maypole pattern. Clusters of silver birch tress with fairy lights sparkled in the dim room creating a spooky yet elegantly beautiful atmosphere; their silhouettes twirled wildly like those on the dance floor. Origami bats, frogs, and spiders of multiple sizes found their home around trays of expensive food and nibbles. They had also been attached to the trees and candelabra posts. Dotted around the room were small, circular tables that had various masks for those guests who had forgotten a costume or preferred to go incognito for the night. All the waiters wore crystal like, blue masks to jazz up their normal serving attire, though many had origami animals perched on their shoulders, which made Hayley's smile deepen.

Apparently the theme was "On a dark and stormy night" which explained the blue and silver colour scheme.

Even though the vision for the Halloween ball was far grander than any bash she had been to before, amongst the richness and splendour were also a few elements of fun.

Three photo booths were positioned on the outskirts of the crowded room. Inside them were traditional costume accessories like witches hats, broomsticks, and wands, among other things, for guests to let loose and fun have for a candid picture. It delighted Hayley hugely to see the socialites and aristocrats actually using them with vigour! Maybe they weren't all stuck up like she had previously thought.

The only noticeable absence in the decorations was the lack of the Halloween staple Jack-o-lantern.

The redhead only had a few moments to admire the room before Karen had grabbed her and Felicia, dragging them to the dance floor – apparently the "Monster Mash" was her jam! The song was so delightfully lively and it was almost impossible for Hayley to dance in such high heels but somehow she managed it. It wasn't long before she found herself lost in the music, letting her body sway to the melodies. She was an awkward dancer with absolutely no rhythm; however, one look at Karen's intoxicated and erratic dancing made Hayley no longer self-conscious.

Felicia giggled and shook her head as the blonde began to do some outrageous krumping moves. "I think Karen is trying to get Manners' attention, don't you?" she shouted over in the music into Hayley's ear.

She clocked onto Karen's eye line to see her come-hither eyes and pouty lips directed straight at the lawyer who was standing by Harry. The redhead was having so much fun she had almost forgotten about the boys who stood by a candelabra, away from the dancing guests.

Wait, was she actually enjoying herself?

"I'll go grab the boys," Felicia informed her with a loud yell, "so stay with Karen!"

As her friend waded through the crowd to collect the male wallflowers, Hayley suddenly felt self-conscious again. Without Felicia's calm and collected persona, she noticed that all eyes were on her. Well, on Karen anyway.

"Woooo! Hay, let's dance!" her drunken friend slurred happily, grabbing her hand. "Gotta let loose girl! Those boys need…need to see what they're missing! Time for girl on girl dancing! That does the trick, sends them wild!"

"Wait, what is – " Hayley began before her arms were lifted above her head. Her eyes widened in embarrassment as her friend began to shimmy her hips close to her body. "I don't see how this – "

"You want Hazzer – "

"God, Karen don't call him that!"

"Haz then. You want Haz to notice you? Wana make him crave you? Then shake that lil ass and dance with me! Men can't resist…how do you think I bagged Dave?" Karen giggled knowingly with an over the top wink of certainty.

Hayley wasn't about to mention that Harry's carnal behaviour back at the manor still proved he wanted her, because her friend looked so happy and fired up to educate her in the art of seduction. So moving her hips in a swaying motion she copied the blonde's movements. Their hands remained clasped as they danced and rocked to the beat of the music, using each as an extension of themselves.

At first it felt alien to dance in this fashion but seeing how much fun Karen was having made even the redhead's prudish nature subside. Besides, that was what friends did for one another; sucked up their pride to make the other happy no matter the cost. Like when she told Gwen she has happy for her to move to England even though it would have killed her inside. Though this situation was a little different and had a lot less at stake. Maybe this was how party girls danced anyway, it's not like she would know first hand. There was nothing behind their actions just the bond of a trusting friendship.

"I'm gonna spin you!" Karen shrieked excitedly before drawing in her friend and flinging her away with a considerable amount of force.

Letting out a small yelp, Hayley closed her eyes as the colourful world around her rushed by. "Ompf!" she grunted as she collided with a tall man. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to…" the redhead trailed off, eyes turning cold upon seeing an annoyingly familiar face. Could she not have one night without a bit of drama?

"Watch where…oh, it's _you_," Doctor Scott snarled, his lip curling in disgust at his former employee. "This is a private function, invitation only Miss Carmichael. Who let scum like you in?"

Her face flushed at his demeaning words. "That would be the same man who invited you no doubt! The foundation's founder, Mr Osborn," she challenged, standing a little taller to exude more confidence than she felt.

"Is he _still_ letting a whore like you stick around? I'm surprised he hasn't thrown you away now that he's used you," the doctor continued his rude assault. He suddenly leaned in close, "Or better yet, killed you, Miss ex-Ravencroft employee. We've seemed to be loosing a lot of them lately."

_Did he just insinuate what I think he did?_ Hayley thought wildly, her heart beating a mile a minute. _Does he know?_

Scott laughed cruelly at her paled face. "Mark my words, I know all about your secrets with that Osborn boy. I will expose you both if it's the last thing I do."

"Who's this stuffpot?" Karen piped up, suddenly realising that she was dancing solo. "Friend of yours Hay?"

"NO!" the doctor and Hayley practically roared at the same time.

"No, we used to work together," the redhead added begrudgingly through gritted teeth.

"He's not wearing a costume," the blonde observed, prodding the doctor in his normal suited chest to prove a point. "Why aren't you wearing a costume? It's Halloween and you have to wear a costume but you haven't dressed up so why are you here if you don't have a costume because this event is fancy dress and – "

"Shut up you idiot!" Scott barked nastily. "Get out of my way!"

Hayley steeped in front of her nemesis, determined to have the final word. "He is wearing a costume, Karen. It's the same one he wears everyday. A special type of costume called an egotistical, sadistic bastard," she said sweetly though her eyes burned, "it looks _so_ good on you."

"One day, your death will be reported on the news, and when that day comes, I will laugh!" Scott growled threateningly with a satisfied smirk. He shoved the redhead away harshly, striding off into the sea of hammered people.

"What a dick!" Karen attributed before quickly going back to dancing seductively. She hadn't really heard anything that madman had said, not with the alcohol dulling her senses, but she could tell he was a nasty prick from a mile off.

* * *

From across the room, Harry had observed the doctor converse with his doll. Even from where he stood the hostility was tangible.

_It was almost perfect…_

However, he did not intervene as Manners and Felicia were already wading through the dance floor to join the blonde and redhead. He watched Scott leave the girls; his eyes flashing green, narrowing darkly at the man who had caused them both so much pain.

"_Patience," _the Goblin crooned, "_his time will come. Just a little while longer."_

"I am already looking forward to it," Harry concurred with malice to his Id. They both watched closely Scott until he was out of their eye line. Then Harry pulled out his cell and sent a short text to a number saved under the name Dmitri. "It won't be long now."

Harry decided to let them all dance for a while, not wanting to loose himself in the event entirely. There were things to do, people to watch. Yet, his eyes still seemed to linger on Hayley, and noticed her eyes darting around the ballroom; was she searching for him?

Her concern almost swayed his resolve and he was about to join them, when his sharp eyes noticed two people staring at him suspiciously. Wilson Fisk, in his usual white suit, was standing in a dark corner, though Harry could spot his gigantic figure a mile off. The unpleasant man was conversing with a tall, gangly boy in a blue hoody, a camera dangling around his neck. Even with a generic mask on, Harry could tell that the younger photographer was Peter Parker. He should have anticipated that the spider would be at this event. At least it would be a lot easier to keep a check on his movements now that Harry knew the vigilante was here.

Taking out his phone once more, he sent another text to Dmitri to inform him of the spider's presence. He had had enough reconnaissance work, and decided to join his friends again, when a smartly dressed, older gentleman accidently blocked his path.

"Menken? What do you want?" Harry asked coldly, trying to get the past the man.

Menken jolted at the sound of his boss' voice, and his body began to shake slightly, though he tried to hide it. Harry's presence caused him to shrink back in fear, his face pale and eyes filled with terror. However, he still attempted to keep up his businessman persona.

At first Harry was caught off guard, completely shocked by the reaction he was getting. Usually, Menken would snarl at him and make small digs about his being unworthy of the Osborn mantle. But not this time. Something was different, and he scratched his chin with a gnarled fingernail. And that's when he remembered. Menken had partial witnessed his Goblin transformation down in the depths of OsCorp. He was there that night and saw the Goblin for real. The poor man was obviously terrified, thinking that the Goblin had returned since Harry had dressed as him for Halloween.

"Relax Menken," he said condescendingly, putting a controlling hand upon the man's shoulder. "Have you never seen a costume before?"

The older man cracked a nervous smile, and a small panicky laugh escaped from his lips, "Of course, Mr Osborn. Of course."

"Please, you honestly think I would go public at an event hosted by my own foundation? I'm not that foolish. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a delicious redhead to dance with."

* * *

**Life happened as it always does with illness. Sigh.**

**For a treat, look up "Ship Happens AMV" on Youtube – basically the song of all FanFic people!**

**I had too much fun describing the Halloween costumes – can you tell I took fashion? Haha **

**As the plot thickens, so does the chapter length….and my descent into madness! **

**Much Love XXX**


	31. Chapter 31

**Featured song**: _Breathe – _of Verona

**I do not own Spider-Man, The Amazing Spider-Man 2 movie, or anything related to the Marvel franchise and all that jazz! I do own my OC's and the plot.**

**WARNING:**** Mature content ahead! Torture and slight sexual situations contained in this chapter.**

* * *

Leaving a still distressed Menken in his wake, the young billionaire proceeded to seek out his girl. As Harry moved seamlessly through the intoxicated elite, he glared at anyone who dared approach him for a business conversation. He was on a mission, and nothing could distract him from it. Spying Fisk in a dark corner, he made note of his position for later reference, for, as the saying goes, "keep your friends close and your enemies closer."

"Where have you been?"

Harry's heart leapt at the look of absolute delight and relief on the pretty redhead's face. Just his presence alone was enough to reassure and clam her in this anxious social occasion.

"We missed you," she said, gesturing to the others who were too busy dancing to notice his reappearance, "we…I missed you." And with that confession, Hayley leant up and brushed her lips chastely against his cheek.

"Business," he explained bluntly, evading her initial, probing question effectively.

With a smile she replied, "I understand." After all, he _was_ an Osborn, and she was used to the behaviour and expectations that came with that mantle.

Harry quickly surveyed the surrounding people: everyone was lost in the richly delights of alcohol, music, and costume grandeur. To his left, Manners and Karen were grinding like they were in an RnB music video. It made him chuckle, hardly able to contain his glee for when he would relay the lawyer's behaviour to him the following day – the man would be royally mortified. However, at least he was no longer an Ivy League stick in the mud, especially when Karen was around. On his right, his faithful secretary, Felicia, was swaying gracefully whilst conversing with one of OsCorp's lower floor's secretaries. Trust her to still keep things professional.

The other partygoers were just a blur of names, faces, and titles. There was only one person he could see clearly, and that was the girl shifting nervously before him. "Care to dance?" Harry asked elegantly. He bowed down low, elegantly presenting his hand like a prince courting his princess in a fairytale.

Hayley giggled and shyly placed her hand in his. "Always," she breathed, her eyes unable to meet the intense and satisfied twinkle in his. "After all, you do owe me a dance."

Smirking, Harry pulled the redhead close, wrapping his arm around her dainty waist. They kept their hands clasped whilst Hayley draped her other arm around his neck. And although the current music did not call for such a sophisticated stance, for it sounded very much like Pendulum, they swayed slowly and formally to the beat.

"Do you reckon the DJ is drunk? I never thought Manhattan's elite would listen or even dance to music like this," the redhead remarked, shaking her head in wonder at a woman, clad in a full-length ball gown, head banging.

"If this were any other occasion, any other ball, you would be correct," Harry explained, "but Halloween is the one night of the year where we can let loose and disguise ourselves. We let our true personalities shine through in the guise of phantoms." His words hung in the air, heavy and poignant, their true meaning currently lost on the girl in his arms.

"So how do you do business at this event? I mean, this _is_ a charity ball, right? How do you even make money when everyone is pissed?"

"There are quieter areas, function rooms off the main ballroom for business transactions. We also have a selection of art that gets auctioned off after midnight. And as well as the money we make from guests purchasing photos of the evening, we rent out costumes and supply hair and makeup artists to those that wish to be pampered…at a royal cost of course."

"Wow, that's a pretty good way of making money. I'm impressed you put that much thought into it."

"Well, I _am_ an Osborn. We also accept donations via cheque, which are always generous when people are intoxicated," Harry spoke wickedly, his devilish grin nearly reaching his ears

Almost on cue, a zombie photographer approached them and eagerly held up his expensive Canon camera. Harry nodded at the young man, and tightened his grip on Hayley so they could pose together. Compared to the paparazzi photos from earlier, posing no longer seemed like a chore. Neither were plastering on false smiles and over exaggerating their cheerfulness, because they were genuinely happy in this moment.

Hayley gazed up at the young billionaire lovingly, but her eyes narrowed slightly on closer inspection of his chiselled face. It was truly a marvel that Harry's green makeup was still pristine perfect. She had no doubt that her own body paint was smudged and had run due to the sweltering heat of the ballroom. And yet his costume looked as fresh as it had been back at the manor.

_Come to think of it, why haven't I got any green residue on me? _Hayley pondered. _Surely it would have rubbed off on my clothing and skin when we were dancing?_

As quickly as it had come, her doubting thoughts vanished as Harry drew her in close to continue dancing; the photographer took a few more snaps before taking his leave.

"Earlier, I saw you arguing with someone," he stated, eyes trained intently on hers.

"Oh?" the redhead replied feigning innocence. She would rather not discuss anything regarding Ravencroft and the evil doctor – this night would not be spoiled by his presence, she wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

"Yes," Harry continued curtly, "Doctor Scott, if I am not mistaken."

"Oh, right, _that _argument. It was nothing major, just him being his usual rude self."

"You looked rather angry," he remarked, spinning them both around to the slow music currently being played. "I must confess, you were rather beautiful all fired up. It was quite the turn on." Ducking his head, Harry pressed his lips to her soft neck and nibbled the pale skin there.

Sighing heavily, shivers rushed through Hayley's body; the atmosphere in the ballroom was invigorating, especially with Harry whispering in her ear and kissing her lobe. And it didn't even really matter what he was saying, because she was concentrating on the heady feelings coursing through her. She clung to him, and he held her body like he would cherish this moment for the rest of his life. It was wonderful to finally find peace. Even on the dance floor amongst the crowd, they were at peace together, away from the drama and trials of Spider-Man and the Goblin. There was rarely any solace for them both, which was why the redhead was determined not to discuss the Ravencroft doctor.

With her head resting on his shoulders, she opened her eyes and lazily glanced around the ballroom. Then, her blood ran cold. Standing in a dark corner, talking to Wilson Fisk… was Peter Parker.

As she caught the surprised gaze of her old friend, Harry continued to question her about Doctor Scott. "What did he say to you that got you so riled up?"

Hayley glared at the spider, who recoiled slightly, mostly likely at the green makeup covering Harry. There was a look in his eyes that she had never seen since his spider guise would normally mask it. There was the determination to protect, no matter the cost, all over his face. Even his body was coiled like a spring; ready for any would be Goblin action. And now he was following the couple's movements cautiously with the precision of a hawk. It made Hayley extremely uncomfortable to be under such piercing scrutiny when Harry was innocent. It was Halloween and he was wearing makeup! Anyone could see that, but not Peter – like the colour red enraging a ball, the shade of green ignited his spider senses into overdrive.

"Hayley!" Harry urged, cupping her cheek with a controlling hand, granting him all her focus. "What did the doctor say to you?" he demanded sharply, eyes serious and clouded with green.

She couldn't not tell him since he was being so insistent and belligerent about it. Therefore the redhead told him a little, just enough to satisfy his thirst…but not everything. Not about the death threat, not about his correct accusation of Harry's involvement in the recent murders. Nothing but the bare minimum.

"He questioned why and how I was here. He called me scum and a, well, a whore. But it's ok! He's just a rude bastard. He's nothing!" she spoke quickly, trying to play down the situation.

Even without divulging the full details, she could tell that Harry was pissed off. More than pissed off in fact. The green in his eyes hadn't waned, only becoming more startling with every word she spoke.

"_This is almost perfect."_

"What?" Hayley asked, not having caught what he had muttered under his breath.

Harry scowled at her, though his anger was directed at the doctor. "I could get him fired!" he seethed, painfully tightening his hold on the redhead's hip and shoulder. "And yet he still continues to mess with me and what is mine!?"

This time, Hayley held his face in his hands, trying to ease his fury. "Hey, it's ok, Harry," she said calmly and kindly, "he is not worth it. We both got out of his sadistic clutches alive, and that's all that matters. We have each other, so he can't hurt us anymore." That last part was a lie and she knew it. Even seeing the man brought back painful flashbacks of Harry's electric torture. The doctor was a trigger for them both, and not a good one at that. "He can't hurt us…right?" she asked needing confirmation.

As an unusually energetic song vibrated across the ballroom, Harry's hands left her and dipped into his tux pocket, leaving her question unanswered. Pulling out an old phone, not his usual top of the line iPhone, his face darkened as he took the call. Hayley hadn't even heard it ring, nor could she catch what he was saying – the lively crowd was singing along to Bon Jovi's "Living on a Prayer" enthusiastically. The crowd was fist pumping the air. It was too hard to even attempt lip reading with everyone jostling around.

Strobe lights suddenly began to pulse erratically, and Hayley could no longer recognise her place in the mass of partygoers. She had lost sight of Harry in the confusion of bright flashes. Panic began to rise inside of her.

Harry appeared to her left and chastely kissed her cheek. "I have some business to take care of," he whispered in her ear, warm breath ghosting her auburn curls. "I'll be back for you. This will be a memorable night. _I can promise you that."_

Shivering, Hayley turned to question him further but he had already vanished..

"Where did Harry go?" Felicia asked suddenly popping up, glancing around at the costumed dancers surrounding the redhead. She couldn't see anyone who looked remotely green. "Did he leave already? I was speaking with a client earlier that he needs to…are you ok? "

Hayley sighed and smiled weakly at her friend, "He got an urgent phone call, probably business related, and rushed off somewhere." The hurt in her voice was evident.

"Did he say what is was about or how long he'd be?"

"No. No he didn't say much in a way of explanation. You know how private he can be, even from me."

The brunette could feel the energy quickly subsiding from the girl dressed as fire. It had not gone unnoticed how Hayley's emotions were very much tied to the Osborn heir, that her reactions and responses were subconsciously attached to him. However, tonight was meant to be fun, and Felicia wouldn't let her boss' absence ruin it for her friend.

"Come on Hay, cheer up. At least you have me right?" she said perkily, linking their arms together. "I need your assistance anyway. It seems that element air and the pilot are trying to join the mile high club in one of the photo booths."

"What? Seriously?" Hayley gasped, though she wasn't sure why she was even surprised at this revelation – those two were like horny teenagers. "How do you even know that?" she asked as the both hurriedly pushed through a throng of dancers, Felicia leading the way.

"One of OsCorp's secretaries told me," the brunette explained, shouting over the blaring music. "The poor girl walked in on them making out. Apparently she used to date Manners, so I found her crying in the bathroom when I was fixing my hair."

Nodding in understanding, Hayley continued through the crowd, a purpose keeping her mind from missing Harry. It was nice to no longer be alone again in a sea of strangers. She had spent most of her life alone, and Hayley now clung onto any friendship she had, especially when it was someone as kind as Felicia. Thinking back to when they were dancing, Hayley couldn't remember that her friend had even left the dance floor. Better yet, when did Manners and Karen disappear? The redhead must have been so focused on dancing with Harry and keeping an eye on Peter, that she hadn't noticed their absence. The world always seemed like a blur when she was with Harry; nothing else mattered.

The intoxicated crowd finally began to thin as the two girls reached the outskirts of the dance floor. There were still various clusters of businessmen and debutants scattered around, discussing work whilst sipping champagne and eating hors d'oeuvres. Not every guest was here to party, since these events _were_ a chance to mingle and meet countless associates and contacts from other companies. Hayley recognised many of OsCorp's bigwigs and board members, who apparently were too important to dress up. They sported the provided Venetian masks, though some had decided to go commando.

In the shadows by a lonely candelabra, she noticed Doctor Aldington was in deep conversation with a very shaken looking Menken. She wasn't in earshot but whatever they were discussing it seemed that the doctor was trying to calm down the businessman. Menken's hands were clearly unsteady as he chugged down champagne like they were shots.

"Felicia, let's try that photo booth!" Hayley shouted, pointing to the booth right by Menken and Doctor Aldington - hopefully she would be able to eavesdrop on their conversation. However, her hand was being tugged in the opposite direction.

"They aren't in that one," her friend replied, confidently heading to a different booth. It was hidden by a faux wood in one of the darkened corners of the enormous ballroom. "Manners' ex said it was this one. Trust them to pick something so romantically clichéd and secluded," Felicia muttered admonishingly. "They better not be doing anything perverse! Otherwise Karen will face my wrath!"

Hayley giggled at how serious the brunette looked, her brow furrowed with sensible determination well beyond her years. She was a girl who always played by the rules, which was it was surprising that she had kept Harry's secret for so long. Her help had even enabled him to discover the truth behind OsCorp, the spider venom, and Menken's initial betrayal. Although prissy upon first appearance, Felicia had a kind heart and a practical mind.

As they both approached the isolated photo booth, they could hear high-pitched squeaks and moans emanating from inside.

Knocking sharply on the side of the booth, Felicia called out, "Karen? Manners?" The entrance curtain swayed and a lot of suppressed giggling and hushing could be heard, which only made the brunette frown and roll her eyes. "We know you're both in there!" she continued amid more shushing, "I can hear you, you know! Your pilot hat and Prada handbag are out here begging to be stolen!"

The curtain was suddenly ripped open and Karen sheepishly poked her head out, hair and dress in disarray. She grabbed her forgotten handbag and put a hand across her mouth, wiping it with a drunken, girl titter. Manners was reclined on the inner bench, head lolled back in ecstasy, his suit crumpled and a freshly lit cigarette in his hand. The fly of his trousers was partial zipped.

The redhead shook her head with a sad smile – at least some was having a good time. A familiar smell crawled its way into her nose, singeing the tiny hairs, making her heart accelerate uncontrollably. The glowing end of the offending cigarette called to her and she leaned into the booth, breathing in deeply. She snatched the burning stick from Manners' relaxed mouth; the man was too lost in a trance of sexual gratification to notice. The heat from the cigarette was like a beacon, its intoxicating aroma stirring something forgotten inside of her.

The offending object suddenly let her hand, and Hayley quickly come out of her daze to see it being stamped on by Felicia's expensive shoes. "You can't just grab it and not follow through," she reprimanded kindly, her hand giving Hayley's shoulder a comforting squeeze. "You may be dressed as fire tonight but it's still dangerous, right? You aren't immune to it."

Hayley stared into those understanding, doe eyes, her own green ones narrowing slightly. _Did Felicia know something about her past? _She thought with worry.

"Hey! Where's my smoke?" Manners grumbled loudly, finally becoming aware of his surroundings. "When did you guys get here?"

"Oooo! Let's take some pictures!" Karen decided with glee, pulling her two friends unceremoniously into the small booth with her.

"Babe, I don't know what kind of kinky shit you're into, but I don't think of them like – "

"Relax Manners," Felicia interrupted kindly, "you're in a photo booth."

"Really? When the hell did that happen?" he asked with genuine surprise. The lawyer took in the cramped booth, the photography LCD screen, and the crazy fancy dress accessories by his feet. "I don't remember this happening."

"You probably don't remember much when your cock's getting sucked," Hayley blurted out sarcastically. The whole booth went silent. She hadn't meant to say it out loud, but somehow these days her brain and mouth weren't communicating properly.

Manners fixed the redhead with a stare that was meant to be piercing but ended falling short because of the alcohol. "Yeah, basically," he admitted offhandedly, zipping up his fly.

Karen and Felicia looked at each other before bursting out laughing, successfully defusing the strange tension. Simultaneously they both reached down and snatched up the random and discarded Halloween accessories on the ground.

"Since, _hic_, since we're in here, let's get photos!" Karen screeched with glee as she wrapped an orange feather boa snuggly round her neck and chin. "Pictures! Pictures! Pictures!" she continued to demand until all four of them in the booth had something ridiculous on.

And silly they looked indeed. Clothed in all their finery with only a small dash of hilarity to spoil their well-put together facades. Hayley finally felt the festive spirit and she laughed to herself at how comical they all looked now.

An oversized witches hat was placed as daintily as possible atop Felicia's bird nest hair, whilst Karen had donned another accessory along with her boa – a pair of big, goofy, red glasses. In her arms, Manners was fidgeting in a long, curly, black wig that she had forced on his head. The lawyer was scratching at the itchy, synthetic hair, grumbling at how the plastic bats attached to it were too life like for his liking. His forgotten pilot's hat was now atop Hayley's red hair, and her hands were covered in green, rubber witches gloves. They were all gnarled and bony in appearance, which only reminded her of Harry.

"Picture time!" the blonde slurred again, jabbing at the interactive LCD screen to take a picture. Only when Felicia intervened and calmly tapped the correct button did the beeping countdown begin.

All four twisted and turned, pulling funny faces, doing peace signs and bunny ears. They hugged one another, clasped hands, mimicked Madonna and did drunken Vogue poses. Amongst all the fun, Felicia tried her best to distract her friend from remembering that one of their party was missing. It was a shame because it would have been good for Harry to experience this type of normality with friends.

They took photos for a good ten minutes, the camera clicking away and storing the images for later retrieval. When they finally ran out of steam, Karen and Manners decided to rekindle their earlier fun.

Hayley tugged on the fluttering feather boa to get her friend's attention, "Get a room you two!"

"We…did…look…" Karen tried to explain through her heavy breathing, the lawyer's tongue firmly down her throat.

"Once again, a photo booth is not a room!" clarified Felicia with an agitated sigh.

"Look…if I had…had the…Karen! God sake woman, I am trying to talk!" Manners declared ripping his face away from the blonde – clearly their snogging had to cease if the lawyer wanted to converse. "If I had the room…_Karen_! Babe, stop…ok keep going…"

Felicia exclaimed, "Oh, jeez!" before shimmying out of the booth. She'd had enough of the nauseating display of carnal lust. Her eyes tried to avoid the sight of the blonde's temptress lips moving from the lawyer's, kissing his neck, lower and lower

""If I had the key or remembered what room number Harry booked – "

"Wait!" Hayley interrupted, heart stirring at her love's name. "He booked a room?"

"He always does at functions. Where is the little shit anyway?"

Hayley's eyes widened, remembering the last ball she went too and how long it took her find him Harry. But not this time. This time she had an idea of where to look, of the possible room number and where it was in the enormous Waldorf Astoria. Harry was a creature of habit, so maybe, just maybe, her hunch would pay off. Without a single word she took off the witch's hands and leaped from the cramped booth. Determination flowed through her, heart ablaze with a new purpose.

"Oi! I want my hat back!" the lawyer yelled, poking his head out the booth curtains.

As Felicia watched the redhead whisk away, the pilot's hat flew through the air, Frisbee style and met its mark, smacking the lawyer square in the face. Who knew her friend had a wicked throwing arm?

* * *

"Harry? Are you in here?" the redhead called softly, knocking as she slowly entered the somewhat familiar hotel room.

The room was dark save for a table lamp and the light of the overcast, night sky. Harry was standing by the tall balcony windows, staring at the world outside. She thought it strange that he was stood with an unusual amount of poise, his hands clasped together behind his back instead of hands crossed over his chest. The pose looked wrong on him; it was a mannerism that an older man would do, like Manners for instance.

"Harry?" she tried again, inching further into the room. "Harry, are you alright?"

The billionaire turned elegantly to face her, his eyes widening a little like it was the first time seeing her. "What are you doing here?" he enquired softly.

"I-I came to see…to see if you were ok. You left rather suddenly. How come we always meet like this? In a dark room. Room 136? Always so predictable Harry," she smiled fondly, standing before him. Her hand reached out to rub his arm and she noted how he flinched slightly. "Are you sure you are ok? If you're feeling ill we can always go home."

"Not yet. The time isn't right," he responded cryptically.

"Well," Hayley said suddenly feeling bold, "if we need to waste time, how about we finish what we started at the apartment?"

Harry's eyes searched her face blankly, like he was unsure of what she meant.

Rolling her eyes, the redhead stood on her tiptoes and planted a kiss on his hesitant lips, curling her hands around his neck. The lips beneath hers didn't automatically respond. In fact, they stayed lifeless, frozen in…uncertainty? Even his body felt alien, standing stock-still.

Hayley reluctantly stepped away from him a little. "I'm sorry. Maybe now isn't the right time," she said dejectedly, "I know this event is hosted by your charity, so I shouldn't keep you from your guests." Her eyes returned to the floor sadly, fresh with rejection.

The young man before her checked his watch agitatedly, his eyes darting around the room with furious hesitation. It was like he was fighting something, something against his better judgement maybe? But what?

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't tempt you like this."

"Sod it," Harry muttered in a voice that was not entirely his own. It made Hayley suddenly nervous but she brushed it off quickly when he leaned in for a kiss.

Their lips met and she felt euphoria sweep over her. However his kiss wasn't strong and demanding like usual, in fact Harry was taking it slow, coaxing her lips into a more soft and passionate kiss. It was an odd change of pace. Not that she was complaining, but he seemed to be missing the urgency for control. It was like he was acting like a gentleman would, letting her take the lead sometimes. Even his hands on her body weren't wild and insistent. Harry held her delicately, almost as if she were a doll he did not want to break or dirty. To be fair, Hayley was covered in body paint so he was probably being conscious of that.

Abruptly, Harry broke their kiss. "How can I say no," he murmured strangely, "when you've got such a cute little ass." His hands spread over her bum, squeezing gently. "How can such a delicate creature do these things to me? Make me feel this way so suddenly."

Not for the first time, Hayley noted how his voice was different. She couldn't put her finger on it, but the words he used seemed wrong. Considering the little amount of alcohol Karen had managed to force down her throat, her senses were bound to be hazy.

Then he let go of her completely and brought an unfamiliar phone from his suit pocket. It was an old model, and not one Hayley had ever seen him use before. It wasn't the one from earlier either. Maybe the alcohol was causing her to hallucinate.

"Come, let's go dance and enjoy our time together," Harry remarked taking her hand.

_When did he change from a goblin into a prince? _Hayley wondered, letting her charming lead her back to the main ballroom.

* * *

"_You think you could have got away with treating her like that? Are you that pompous that you didn't think I would come after you? That you are invincible?" _

Kraven watch his protégée snarl in the face of a man who was tied to a rickety chair before them.

The man's face was severely swollen, covered in bruises, dried blood from his broken nose, and a fresh cut across his left eye. The smart glasses he once wore were smashed to pieces, scattered on the dirty ground beneath the bolted chair legs. He was breathing heavily, trying to recover from the second beating he had just received – there were many to come, for the night was still young.

"_Nothing to say? Hmmm? What's the matter? Cat got your tongue, doctor?"_

"You're a monster. You and that little whore deserved everything you got!" the man retorted before grunting in pain as he was smacked violently across the face.

"_That's right, use words as weapons, because that's all you have! But not for much longer."_

The interrogator drew a jagged, carved, army knife from the belt of his suit. He slowly approached the beaten man. It was an act of intimidation; a predator coming for its prey, and Kraven basked proudly at how far his student had come.

Choking, the man's eyes widened in terror as he was held roughly by the neck. Pointed fingernails prised open his mouth and yanked his tongue sharply. His neck was released but only so his torturer could hold the knife up to the face of his victim. In one swift movement, a lump of bloody flesh fell to the ground with a soft thump. The man howled in agony, his mouth filling with blood where his tongue had once been. If his hands weren't tied behind his back, the man would have held them to his face to stem the bleeding – anything to prevent the excruciating pain caused by his tongue being so viciously cut from him.

Laughing with joy, the interrogator smirked wildly, "_That's the very least you deserve, you arrogant fool! Your words can't destroy her now!"_

For a while, the hunter simply stood and observed the prisoner being tortured. It fascinated him to see this type of erratic predator play with its prey. His student used every technique he had been taught to inflict maximum pain. The man's kneecaps had been shattered to prevent a desperate escape attempt. Any distinguishing features had been completely demolished by rage filled beatings and congealed blood.

"_What's that? You want more?"_

Now the man's tongue was gone, he gurgled helplessly.

"Toying with your prey? I thought I taught you better than that," Kraven remarked stonily; he enjoyed the hunt, the thrill of the kill, however he deemed torture a tad unnecessary unless used in moderation. And this was not moderation. This was verging on excessive.

"_This bastard deserves far worse after messing with me! Besides, it's not too long before she gets here. Text Dmitri."_

The tortured man howled in pain.

"_I have one final thing for you, doctor. A little payback since you enjoy electrocution so much, why don't we have a little therapy session of our own, hmmm?"_

More incoherent pleading and yowling came from the frightened man's bloody mouth, his body shaking in a state of shock.

"_No dying on me!" _Kraven's protégé growled, slapping the man across the face once more. "_Not yet! Why don't I introduce you to my dear friend Electro? I'm sure you remember him, hmmm? I want to watch the sparks fly! Then, and only then, will you burn."_

* * *

They drove through Manhattan with ease, as there was little traffic at two in the morning to disrupt their journey home. Only a few hard-core trick-or-treaters remained on the deserted streets, namely the tricksters.

An hour after returning to the dance floor, Harry's strange phone had buzzed again, and he announced that they had to leave. Even with having thoroughly danced off her sexual frustration, Hayley still had an unusual amount of energy. The kiss they shared in the hotel room had her all fired up, and she was oddly desperate for loving attention. However, the young billionaire was sitting poker straight beside her, seemingly uninterested. Instead, his attention was on his phone, obsessively checking it as well as staring out the car window with narrowed eyes. It was very unlike Harry to be uninterested in sex. Maybe he was tired from the even, but she had a growing need that would only be sedated by his touch.

With unnaturally bold confidence, possibly aided by the little drink she had consumed, Hayley slid her hand up his leg, applying pressure as she neared the top. Immediately, Harry swatted away her insistent hand. Apart from that sharp reaction, his face offered no tell. So she tried again. This time, Hayley could feel the shiver of his body beneath her hand, and a tiny unnatural breath wistfully escaped his lips. She stroked his thigh and lightly teased around his growing bulge.

Harry couldn't stop himself groaning, however he followed it by saying, "Stop. Stop, Hayley."

"Why?" she questioned in her best impression of Karen's husky voice – seduction wasn't her forte, so Hayley took inspiration from her friend's earlier escapades and wrapped her arms around him. "You want this, don't you?" Her lips brushed over his, and the redhead finally relented in her teasing for a moment before she palmed his crotch.

A gruff, disembodied voice came from the front of the car. "We've lost him, sir," the driver announced.

Harry replied with a strange response, "Good. Take us to the fireworks."

"Harry," Hayley called quietly, curling an arm around his neck, pulling him closer, "do you want to have me?"

He was still unnaturally hesitant even though she could clearly see and feel that his body desperately wanted her also. The way his lips subtly puckered towards hers betrayed his growing desire.

"I-I-I-"

She chuckled at his strange reluctance. "Yes? I can feel you getting hard – "

"We mustn't conduct ourselves in this way," he insisted, a mixture of pleasure and shock on his face. "At least wait until you're back at Osborn Manor."

The slightly odd way he referred to their home went over her head, her focus completely on the task at hand. "Haven't you always wanted to fool around in the car? I'm sure the driver won't mind. We'll be extra quiet," she reasoned again, her doe eyes trying to guilt trip him into complying. She was very unsure why her advances weren't working when he normally wouldn't need a reason to be with her. "You can do what you like. You _are_ Harry Osborn."

"Of course I am!" Harry disputed harshly. Roughly, a little too rough, he shoved the redhead off him in a manner that clearly indicated that he was not messing around. "_Wait_ until you are home."

Heavy silence feel between the two, coating the car in uneasy tension. It was then that Hayley's lustful mind began to clear. He had used "you" instead of "we" – why was that? In fact, she started to realise that he had been removing himself from her in how he spoke, in the words he chose to use. Not only had he inferred that the manor was her home and not his, he had referred to it so formally, using its proper title.

Something wasn't right.

"We've arrived," the driver called out.

Hurriedly, Harry opened the car door and unceremoniously dragged Hayley from where she sat, still confused. Outside, the air had gone colder still, its icy chill biting at the redhead's bare legs and shoulders. There was a faint mist, the weather undecided on rain or to bring down early snow. Freshly fallen leaves skittered around the sidewalk ominously, while unswept, damp clumps of trash and autumnal foliage decorated the deserted area. No one was around; no children, no treaters, no tricksters, no birds…just a few obese rats. The lack of working streetlights meant that the worst of this place had yet to illuminated.

This wasn't Osborn Manor – far from it.

"W-where are we?" Hayley asked nervously, almost too afraid to know the answer. They were in the New York slums, but why? Where had Harry taken her? "This i-isn't-"

"Come on," he grunted, grabbing her arm rather forcefully, "there's something you need to see." His vice like grip clearly said not to run.

The abandoned town houses around them were dilapidated, decayed with wood rot and mould. There was no life in them, no colourful paint or fancy brickwork, only crumbling stone and peeling splatters. The word to describe the houses was drab. There was nothing to see. Nothing immediate. Just poverty and seclusion.

Danger alarms sounded in Hayley's head as Harry led her up the front steps of the worst looking semidetached. And although her legs felt like lead and her body wobbled like jelly, she followed obediently, going against her better judgement. It was like her body was on autopilot, like it wasn't hers to control. That's when time started to slow down to a snails pace, every scary sound screaming at her to run. Wind whistled loudly around them as they entered the house, and the floorboards creaked alarmingly under their hurried footsteps. The house seemed saturated in water, whether it was from mould or a burst pipe, Hayley didn't know, but her feet and expensive heels were soaked with grime. And still, Harry pulled her onwards, continuing their ascent of the three-story house.

Her mouth opened and closed, desperate to voice her alarm. However her tongue refused to work, bone dry and limp. The heart beneath her chest fluttered wildly, much faster than when Spider-Man flew with her through Manhattan. She was afraid. No, she was terrified.

As they climbed the final flight, a single door lay before them. The door to the attic. If it weren't for the blood crashing in her ears like ocean waves, Hayley would have heard a familiar voice on the other side of the door. Many in fact. She only knew that going through that door was something she did not want to do. And with a last stitch of effort, Hayley tugged away feebly but she was no match for the man that held her.

With his hand on the handle, primed to open it, Harry turned to the redhead. "Showtime," he whispered darkly, his gleeful smirk more reptilian than his usual Cheshire grin.

The door swung open with a violent crash, almost a prelude to the horror before her.

* * *

The Goblin turned, arms wide to welcome his little fire girl. "_Ginge. Finally. Thought you got lost on the way," _he spoke with a toothy, feline grin, his eyes gleaming mischievously at the pure terror in Hayley's eyes as she stared at him disbelievingly. "_I see you've had the pleasure of meeting Dmitri. As you can tell, his talents are invaluable to us."_

The Harry beside the redhead suddenly began to change. An obvious ripple ran through the man's body, and his green painted face morphed before her eyes. In place of Harry's plump lips was a cruel and calculated grin, lips pressed thinly. His boyish nose became hooked and manlier, as the once recognisable face aged twenty years and adopted a rugged, Russian air.

The man standing beside Hayley, who had been with her in the car and taken her to this place no longer resembled Harry Osborn. He was someone else entirely.

"_Impressive isn't he? An invaluable asset to our cause."_

"Invaluable? Invaluable! You tricked me, Harry Osborn! Who is he? How long was he posing as you? At the ball? At the apartment? What part was real? When we danced? When we kis…" she trailed off, only now seeing a bloodied man in the centre of the room. "What _is _this? Who is that? What…what have you done?"

The Goblin grinned sheepishly, _"A present for you my dear." _He swept his arms out wide like a showman, hands all a flurry.

Hayley quickly got over her initial shock of the chameleon-like man, because the sight before her sobered her mind like a bucket of ice water had been tipped over her head.

The Hunter, Kraven, stood in one corner to her left, the shadows masking him other than the glint of his unsheathed hunting knife. If it weren't for that menacing light, she wouldn't have noticed him at all. Even though his hands worked expertly at sharpening the knife, his eyes were trained on the captive man in the chair. Just like a marksman focused on his target.

The other mysterious man, Dmitri, had wandered closer to his fellow Russian, his gaze darting around the new area of the exposed attic. Part of the roof had collapsed, and he ducked under the fallen beams.

"Harry…what have you done?"

She immediately recognised the man in the chair, even beneath the blood and swollen bruises. Doctor Scott sat almost motionless, arms bound behind his back, countless wounds on his bloody, naked body.

Hayley collapsed to the ground at the horrific sight, her dress tearing so that the flesh on her knees started to bleed. "Goblin, what did you do?"

"_Trick or treat?" _the Goblin chuckled with no hint of remorse in his voice. "_First a trick, and now, Ginge, now, you can have your treat."_

* * *

**Guess who splintered the ligaments in her fingers…this stupid moose! My slow typing has been pissing me off, so apologies for the wait. I think my body is trying to kill me this year!**

**It's Halloween in a few weeks AHHH! I hope you all have fun celebrating and stay safe. I'm dressing as Donnie Darko with a skeleton suit and grey hoody :D then I'm going to a Fright Night at a roller coaster theme park – what are you guys dressing as?**

**Much Love XXX**


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